


Halloween of Thrones

by ArthurBelleRinger, TullyFishy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Stephen King - Fandom
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Cobwebs & Coffins, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cotton Candy Fluff, Dark Comedy, Dead People, Deal with a Devil, Demons, Don't Be That Dick That Hands Out Toothbrushes, F/F, F/M, Fallen Angels, Ghosts, Grim Reapers, Halloween, Halloween Challenge, Haunting, Horror, Incest, M/M, Multi, Mummys not Mommies, Murder, Revenge, Sex, Stephen King Homage, Trick or Treating, Vampires, What's for dinner?, Witches, Zombies, cemetary, good times had by all, mummys, sexy times ahead, stalkers, video games - Freeform, well not all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 12:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurBelleRinger/pseuds/ArthurBelleRinger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TullyFishy/pseuds/TullyFishy
Summary: 31 Days of Halloween Stories starring all your favorites!





	1. Sansa/Tywin

**Author's Note:**

> We don't own these characters we're just having fun!

**Bram Stoker's Dracula**

 

Count Tywin Lannister, Lord of The Rock, was nearly five hundred years old. Joanna, his beloved Joanna, was the woman who made him what he was today, a vampire. But she had disappeared centuries ago with instructions to find and create a proper bride or two. Vampires were not meant to be alone and he had no intention of spending eternity in an empty bed and so he searched the world for exotic beauties with impeccable pedigrees. He found The Princess Danaerys Targaryen, at a ball. She had lovely white hair, lavender eyes, and porcelain skin. Every man in the room was mesmerized by her beauty and seeming vulnerability. She had a petite frame and soft-spoken nature that appeared to be non-threatening but he’d learned quickly she had a fiery temper. Coming from an ancient bloodline that was rife with incest, she’d inherited grace, charm and more than a hint of madness. She’d spent the last two hundred years or so, trying to wake up three stone dragon eggs. Insisting she was the blood of the dragon and would rule the world.

His latest wife, Lady Margaery Tyrell, was another woman of beauty and fine breeding. She had soft brown hair that curled in a pleasing way and large doe-like eyes and soft lips. She was lovely to look at but utterly dull and predictable. Margaery never truly embraced the Lannister name bestowed upon her. She cost him an absolute fortune to maintain with her endless holidays, designer gowns and her obsession with diamonds. His finances were vast but he always gave her what she wanted, it was a small price to pay to keep her incessant whining at a minimum. He’d only had her for a hundred years but some days it felt like three hundred. In his opinion women were good for few things in this world, their blood was always sweeter, they were pleasing to look upon and they seemed to fuck endlessly. He rather enjoyed watching Margaery and Danaerys make love, it always seemed to be a battle on who could make the other scream. Sometimes he’d even join them, much to the women’s delight, their young bodies sliding against his roughened exterior. Their cries as he gave them the orgasms they craved and then setting them on each other as he recuperated afterward were always entertaining. But it always felt so rehearsed and their moans just a little too loud. It had all become too routine as of late.

And so he remained perfectly satisfied and still bored when he spied “her” at a soiree. He’d learned quickly her name was Sansa Stark a socialite who came from the type of wealth and privilege most girls only dreamed of. Yet she didn’t flaunt it in the latest garish designer fashion. She chose simple elegance, a green silk blouse, and a black pencil skirt. A simple necklace fell just above her cleavage drawing the eye and her long red hair was pinned up just daring to be let loosed. She was stunning and several men were already vying for her attention but she’d set her eyes on Tywin and had pursued him relentlessly the rest of the evening. He wasn’t a man used to being preyed upon, the fact that he never had to use his power of persuasion to control and seduce her as he had so many others was rather refreshing. She corned him in the coat room and slowly unbuttoned her blouse exposing a cream-colored bustier. He freed her ample bosom letting his tongue savor her pink rose colored nipples. She let loose her hair as he slid off her skirt revealing a garter belt and stocking and nothing else. Before him, stood the perfect picture of beauty and lust. A delicious meal waiting to be devoured.

When he bit her in the neck he had every intention of draining her but when she moaned and began orgasming at the mere contact of his fangs he changed his mind. So many victims fought, Daenerys had remained perfectly still giving way to a silent surrender and Margaery had cried and pleaded but neither of them had moaned. He released her neck immediately and slipped his hand between her legs, dipping a finger inside. She was so wet, the woman was practically dripping for him. He licked her down each leg resting on his shoulders as he feasted on her in a different way. Every woman had a different taste, it was always faint but utterly unique at the same time. It was so subtle only a vampire could possibly detect it. Joanna tasted sweet like morning dew, Daenerys a hint of a smoky flavor and Margaery tasted like rose water. Sansa tasted sweet like lemon cake. And he lapped her up hungrily, pleasuring her with his tongue and fingers as he did so until her moans turned to shrieks of ecstasy. Not a word of it forced or practiced.

Tywin was with her so long in the room he almost didn’t hear the pounding on the door. Quickly he disappeared into smoke and watched with amusement as her father and brothers poured in, heavily armed. Apparently, they thought their precious girl was being murdered. Finding her lying, half-naked on the floor with a bloody neck didn’t help either. Without a word, they bundled her up and absconded with her into the night. This only enraged him, for Sansa had been claimed by him and he’d kill anyone that stood in his way. _Anyone._  With his connections, it didn't take long to find her hiding in the North. Every night he visited her and fed from her more and more until only a small spark of the girl remained.  Every night he tasted her she begged for more until her voice was hoarse. She knew what he was and yet she was unafraid. Her worried family hired security and placed her under constant surveillance. It was almost laughable really, until it wasn't. Finally tiring of the games he dispatched the security detail and then her family, their screams filling the night. 

He found Sansa in the Greenhouse wearing a sheer orange dress, her hair loose and messy. She was staring at the moon as if waiting for him.  Tywin looked at her calmly their eyes meeting before he changed into his most monstrous form, a vicious looking creature with large batlike wings and skin black as night. She refused to scream or run from him. Rather, she was completely enraptured with the creature before her. She licked her lips and sat on a stone bench parting her smooth legs before him. Tywin was upon her in an instant ripping her orange dress to shreds before fucking her on the stone bench as she begged for more. He shrieked and flapped his wings about, stirring her red hair in the maelstrom. She was tight inside, tighter than Daenerys who was rumored to have fucked an entire army on her brothers' behest _and_ their horses. She was tighter than Margaery who had proudly fucked anything and everything she could get her hands on. He let out a guttural moan as her walls clamped around his cock and she cried out making the most beautiful sounds as she came and he wasn’t far behind her.

Suddenly he heard a gasp and abruptly folded his wings, turning his head to see a woman, the spitting image of his dear Joanna, standing in the doorway. Had his long lost love come back to him finally? The woman looked like her, reborn, but Joanna would never have been horrified, she would have laughed and joined him, so he returned his gaze upon Sansa’s naked body and put thoughts of Joanna behind him. Joanna was his past, this young Sansa was his future. Even Vampires saw ghosts. He faced Sansa and continued fucking her even harder than before, biting her inner thigh as she came again, the taste of her sweet blood filling his mouth. She was dying before him and still wished to be fucked. The woman was insatiable. He tensed as he felt familiar claws digging into his buttocks and roared, It was Joanna! The Joanna he remembered was staring down at him as he fucked the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Slam her, Tywin! Press deep inside her! Fill her up as you used to fill me up!” Her claws raked his back as his pumping continued. “That’s it! Give it to her! Fuck her, until she falls apart!"

Sansa's moans turned to a whisper as her heartbeat slowed but a smile remained on her pale face. Joanna bent down kissing her, her vampire tongue sliding into the redhead's mouth, probing deeply before withdrawing. Sansa merely grabbed Joanna's golden locks weakly and pulled her head back down for another long kiss. He watched as an obliging Joanna smiled and bent down for another kiss. The sight of Sansa kissing Joanna was too much and he came inside of his new bride, the ecstasy far exceeding the pleasure of biting and draining someone completely. Sansa let out a gurgled scream as Joanna bit her tongue, the blood flowing out of her mouth and across her face. Tywin bent to lap it up and drew his own kiss from Sansa, her heartbeat matching the quivering on his cock as she orgasmed. He drew in her blood and could feel her heart straining from the loss, so he withdrew.

“You should feed her, my love. Make her yours as I made you mine!” Joanna said, smiling wickedly. “At least I approve of this one. "She graduated from college when she was only ten years old.  She’s a gifted prodigy, so much more than the pretty faces you’re used to standing by your side.” She stroked Sansa’s hair lovingly as a mother would do to a child. “I planned this all so carefully for you. I invited her to the soiree, don't you see! I’ve been waiting for this moment for years now. Someone like you should never grow bored.” She looked at Sansa, “you’ll keep him entertained won’t you my dear?” Sansa’s eyes only glazed over from the loss of blood. "Turn her my love! Before it's too late. We don't want another Elia 'situation' on our hands, do we?"

Tywin frowned at the memory before dragging his claw against his left breast cutting it deeply, just to the right of his nipple, and directly over his heart. Blood began to pool and drip into Sansa’s mouth and she licked her lips, reviving, her eyes opened and she lifted her mouth to suckle and feed, from his breast, drinking greedily. The rush of sensations as the curse took Sansa was exquisite, far more intense than any earthly orgasm. Their minds intertwined as they shared his blood and Tywin gave himself up to the blinding ecstasy of it all. It seemed like years but it was only moments before Joanna broke the spell. “Well done, my Tywin, she will make an excellent addition to our harem, a blonde, a brunette and now a redhead. Did you truly think I had let you go? I simply needed some time away to watch you grow. You are truly a worthy mate.” She rolled him off Sansa and straddled his face. “Now it is your turn to service ME!” She said, and Tywin set to work, he could never deny Joanna anything….

 

 

 


	2. Petyr/Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr Baelish gets to know His Biggest Fan.

 

**Petyr/Lysa**

 

**Misery**

 

Petyr felt groggy. His eyes refused to focus and his head swam. He tried to bring his hands up to rub his temples, but his left wrist stopped short with a rattle. He looked down and saw that he’d been handcuffed to an old brass bed and the memories slowly came flooding back.  
After the book signing he’d retired to his room when he heard knocking on his hotel door at a late hour, he’d thought it was Sansa but when he’d opened the door it was someone else? He sighed angrily and looked around for a clue any clue to tell him where he was or why he’d been kidnapped.

He didn’t recognize the room he was in and he had no view from any visible window. He looked at his right arm and saw an IV strategically placed, whoever had placed it there had been a professional. He practically jumped when a voice behind the bed spoke excitedly. An older redhead came into view and he vaguely remembered her from his book signing. If she was a stalker, he might actually be fucked. He tried to remain as calm as he could but that was difficult with drugs slowing down his brain.

“Petey!” The woman rushed to his side. “Welcome back! You gave me quite the scare, hitting your head like that. Silly Petey, you look like you’re not happy to see me.” Her crazed smile was slowly turning into a frown.

Petyr swallowed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I’m just slightly confused?” He rattled his handcuffs on the bedpost to prove his point.

“Oh, forgive me, Petey! I'm Lysa! Lysa Arryn! Your biggest fan!” She said, fairly bouncing up and down in anticipation.

“Lysa? I'm afraid you have me mistaken for…”

“Oh stop! Petey, you don't have to be humble with me! Like I said, I'm your biggest fan!” She said scooting a chair closer and sitting down. “I was 16 when I read ‘Littlefinger’ the first time! It changed my life!” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I used to fuck myself with my hairbrush after every chapter.” She giggled like a school girl and Petyr shifted uncomfortably.

She smoothed his hair and smiled in a gentle, terrifying way. “I’ve read everything you have ever written! Don’t worry about a thing, you’re safe with me.” She adjusted his IV and he felt his eyes slowly close and a vague sensation of her hand slipping under his boxers before everything went dark again. His days had passed in some distorted staccato of altered perception from the drugs she had been giving him.

She fed him like a mother would feed a toddler, complete with airplane and choo choo noises. She showed no obvious discomfort at him using a bedpan only reinforcing his theory she may be a deranged nurse. She seemed to delight in giving him sponge baths though while rambling on and on about his books. He was too weak to protest whenever she’d go down on him to give him unwanted blow jobs and too tired to stay awake as she did it. He’d never felt so helpless and despondent. He was completely at her mercy.

One morning he woke, relatively clear-headed, his hands had been tied above his head and his ankles were tied to his bedpost. He was also completely naked, not that in itself was out of the ordinary but it was Lysa, his captor, who stood before him in a thin robe that worried him. She had a hunger in her eyes that was truly frightening and he wondered if this was the day she would kill him.

“I have waited a long time for this, Petey.” She said, walking towards him and undoing the belt. “My husband didn't understand that you and I were meant for each other. He couldn't accept it, tried to stop me, but he's not a problem anymore. It's just you and me now.” She opened the robe, letting it slip off her shoulders and fall to the floor. She was completely naked underneath and the sight held no real appeal to him.

Her breasts were sagged with age and she had a faint tattoo of something on her right breast that had stretched and discolored over time. Her brown nipples were as puckered as her lips and her flabby stomach was covered with stretch marks. She might have had a cesarean scar but he wasn’t sure since it rested above a dark red bush of wild, matted, pubic hair that looked like it was in desperate need of a weed wacker.

“Oh Lysa, I’m not really in the mood tonight. It’s the handcuffs, I can’t move around and make love to you like I’d wish with them on, I’m sorry.” It was one of his many desperate attempts to convince her to free him.

“Oh Petey, first we’ll make love the way I want to.” Lysa said, smirking, “I gave you a little extra something while you were sleeping, the effect may last for more than four hours, but that's ok, I'm sure we can find ways to spend the time!”

“Wait…” Petyr's eyes widened as he realized there was no way to avoid this. She only chuckled slightly.

“It’s not like I’m raping you Petey! You want this, remember? You never complained while I was going down on you. Now it’s my turn. Remember, you’ve been making love to me since I was a teenager!”

With that she climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He could feel her wetness against his balls and the heat of her, as she rubbed herself against him. To his dismay he felt his erection forming underneath her. She dragged her nails down his chest digging red furrows in his skin and he was surprised there was no blood.

She growled as she slid his hardened cock deep inside her loose walls. Her hair fell across her face and he decided that if this was happening, and there was no real way for him to stop it now, that he had to find a way to enjoy it. So he squinted his eyes and imagined the dark auburn hair before him belonged to his assistant editor, Sansa Stark. It was Sansa fucking him, Sansa screaming for him. Sansa. Sansa. Sansa.

“Mmmm, yes!” He moaned, closing his eyes and imagining Sansa, “Fuck me! Grind your clit into me!”  
He could feel her rotating her hips to rub herself against his pubic bone, eliciting moans of her own. He began to thrust with her rhythm and she gasped and he thrust deeper.

“Oh yes, Petyr! Yes!” They pumped and ground against each other, until they both exploded in orgasm, Lysa crying out, “OH PETEY!”

“Oh, ss...SANSA!”

As he convulsed in his orgasm with Lysa frozen above him. “What? What did you say? WHAT DID YOU SAY?” she screamed into his face! “Who is Sansa? HUH? WHO IS SANSA? You’ve ruined EVERYTHING!” She slapped him hard across the face before sliding off him and leaving the room weeping and cursing.

Petyr remained there stunned with a raging hard on thanks to the drugs she’d slipped him and no possible way to relieve himself. He wept his own tears of frustration as the sound of Lysa screaming and cursing echoed through the home. He had no idea how long he’d been left like that naked on the bed with the remnants of their sex crusted in his pubic hair before Lysa finally walked back in.

She was dragging a large burlap sack behind her that appeared to be filled with several heavy, blocky objects. He sighed in relief having actually entertained the horrifying idea that she had just abandoned him here like this. That in her crazed state she had left him to starve or die of thirst. He watched her set the sack aside and pour a glass of water adding a bendy-straw before bringing it to him. He drank greedily until she pulled the glass away. The silence was deafening because it was so unusual. She had spent all his previous visitations speaking, nearly nonstop.

Finally, after setting the glass on a table he couldn’t see above his head, she spoke, “It’s been a long time since your last book, Mr. Baelish. I wrote your publisher again and again about it but they never replied. So I started doing some research of my own and came across a site that was selling a manuscript that they claimed was a first draft of your next book.” She wasn’t looking at him, but rather staring at something she picked up off the table. “What was it you decided to call your latest work? What particular title had you chosen for it?” She demanded flatly finally giving him a long, cold stare.

Petyr decided lying to her would be a mistake at this point, so he responded honestly, “Catelyn’, I was going to call the book ‘Catelyn’. He sputtered out, still confused about how she had gotten ahold of that piece of information. She smiled, a frightening smile, one full of madness and anger.

“Then it wasn’t wasted money after all! She thrust what she had been holding in his face. It was indeed a manuscript, held together with binder clips and the blue cover page that had “CATELYN” written across the front. He recognized it immediately. It was the “Teaser” he had sent his publisher to get his editor off his back. “I paid two thousand dollars for it on an online auction.” Lysa said, quickly.

She got up and began pacing the room. “My husband was angry. He said it was crazy to spend that kind of money on anything so stupid. CRAZY!” Her pacing became quicker and she gripped her hair. “I showed him though, when he turned around to get himself a beer from the fridge, I picked up a cast iron skillet off the stove and I hit him.” She paused another smile. “I hit him again and again until there was hardly anything left of his head at all. I’ll never forget that sound of the bones crunching and the scream he made. He didn’t understand! He was in the way! We could never be together with him around!”

Lysa knelt before him and looked up at him, her eyes pleading for something, what he wasn’t sure. He was afraid to say anything at all. “I dragged his body to the cliff outside and pushed him over, just like in your book! They will never find his body, not now. Not ever. The Sheriff did investigate but everybody thought he’d finally left me. Can you believe it? Who would leave me? Nobody was the wiser of course and that's left us free to be together! I have researched everything about you, Petey. I have been following you for years. The coffee shop, the gym, that little Irish pub you like to frequent...

Petyr tried to scoot away from her. “Lysa…”

She cupped her hand over his mouth. “It’s time for you to finish OUR book. But first we are changing the name! She showed him a new blue sheet of paper she had tucked into the back, it said “ ‘LYSA’ by Petyr Baelish, Author of ‘Littlefinger’ with special dedication to my friend, truest love and soulmate: Lysa Arryn”.

Petyr was horrified, this woman had killed her husband for him! She thought they had a connection and he had called out another woman’s name while fucking her! He was in real trouble and if he was not careful, he would end up like her husband!

“My dearest Lysa, of course I will finish th… our book.” He gave her his most charming smile and tried to hide the desperation in his voice.

“I know you will. I’ve forgiven you for calling out another name. You were still medicated at the time. It all became clear to me last night. You just need more time! But I can’t have you running off after I what I just told you, can I? You called me dearest and I know you meant it!”

She brought out a four-by-four length of wood and placed it between his ankles. Petyr’s eyes widened in horror as she next drew out a ten pound sledge with a long handle.

“Lysa please! Whatever you are thinking about doing, please don’t do it! You don’t need to do this! I won’t tell anyone! We can write it together! Please, Lysa!” He begged.”

“Shhh, Petey Darling! It’s for the best!”

“God, Lysa, no! NO, PLEASE!”

It was pointless as she swung the sledge hard at his left ankle. He heard the crunching of bone and then a pain that became sound as whiteness flared in his brain. He heard screaming and realized it must be him. He was vaguely aware of her moving to the other side of the bed.

“Almost done! Just one more!” and she swung again.

He had thought nothing could hurt worse than what he was feeling, but as the sledge slammed into his right ankle, he writhed in agony, grinding the shattered pieces of his left foot together and the combination went beyond description. His mouth opened to scream, but his throat was incapable of making a sound. He could not have been more silenced if he had had his throat cut.

“God, I love you, Petey!” She said, staring down at his writhing form adoringly.

______________________________________________________________________

Sansa was sitting at her desk, looking at her bank account and the two thousand dollar deposit in it from three weeks ago, when she heard a message ping on her phone and picked it up.

L.B

WE TRACKED DOWN LITTLE FUCKER. LOOKS LIKE HE’S BEEN KIDNAPPED. SENDING GPS COORDINATES. NEXT STEP IS UP TO YOU.

H.

Sansa smiled and looked down at the coordinates. It looked like Baelish’s stalker had taken him to the Eyrie. She picked up a small electronic device off her desk with her other hand. It was a camera. She had found it under her desk last week, before Petyr left for his book signing, while chasing a dropped pen. She had spent the rest of the week checking the other desks of female staff and found four more, and two more in the women’s locker rooms.

She’d found a total of five in her office alone, all the cameras led back to Petyr. He had been spying on her and every other female at the publishing firm. He’d looked up their skirts, watched them shower after working out and he’d even spied on her eating out her girlfriend in the locker room two weeks ago. Words could not adequately express her rage. She felt violated in a deeply personal way, like he had raped them all from a distance. She felt nothing but disgust for the little man and she could almost see herself doing actual violence on him, not only for herself, but for all the others he had betrayed the trust of, by doing this. She looked at the stack of cameras she had found and she just couldn’t believe it. So she typed a response.

H

THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK. IT’S AS I SUSPECTED. I HOPE HE’S VERY HAPPY IN HIS NEW HOME. I’M SURE HE WOULD APPRECIATE SOME PRIVACY AT THIS TIME.

L.B

She clicked send and tossed the camera onto the stack on her desk with the note about where she’d found them for HR and she stood up to leave. She was going to go home and open a celebratory champagne bottle with her girlfriend before slipping into a luxurious bubble bath, Margaery always did love bubbles. She left the office with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step.


	3. Ramsay/Theon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Theon have a rough night

Last House on the Left  
Ramsay/Theon

* * *

Fall 1956

 

They found Jeyne’s body leaning against a tree. She had been brutalized and stabbed repeatedly. Her clothes were shredded and her bloody underwear was twisted around one ankle. The girls wept as they saw their friend’s lifeless eyes staring up at them, as if pleading for them to help her.

“No! Jeyne! Gods No!” Sansa didn’t even realize she was screaming until Arya embraced her. Sansa sobbed uncontrollably. “Who would do this? Jeyne was sweet and kind and good.” Sansa had to look away but couldn’t stop crying, her body convulsing and shuddering. “She…. she…. she wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Arya stepped back from Sansa and closed the girls eyes. She saw that her friends arms had numerous cigar burns. She frowned. There were many men in town who smoked cigars, but only one teenage boy. She prayed she was wrong about her assumption.

““Sansa, where was Jeyne this evening? Think carefully.”

Sansa stopped crying for a moment, and wiped her tears. . “T...tonight? Ummm she was going to hang with some Greaser with a duck-butt. I don’t remember his name. She would…..wouldn’t tell me. She wanted to borrow my necklace and I said no. Why did I say no? Gods Jeyne!” Sansa began crying in earnest her heart clearly breaking.

Arya kneeled next to her sister. “Jeyne will get justice, I swear, dig? Check out her feet.”

Sansa gripped her sister’s hands before looking at the body of her dead friend. “She’s not wearing any shoes. Where are her shoes?”

Arya frowned. “I’m not sure, but she looks like she was running from the cat who did this. We need to phone the cops, do you have any idea where the nearest phone is?”

Sansa looked at her incredulously. “The police? THE POLICE? They are corrupt, they won’t do anything for Jeyne! He was a Captain on the force and THEY KILLED FATHER!” Sansa again broke down crying.

“Get with it, Sans, we can’t do anything for Jeyne just standing here. The dreadfort is up the road. That old place has a working phone. Come on.” She pulled her sister toward the car.

“How do you know that?” Sansa asked, wiping her nose. “Have you been up there?”

Arya smirked, “Oh, a time or two. There’s more to see than heroin spoons and whisky bottles, though. I used to train up there for a time, getting ready for The Academy. Before… it doesn’t matter. But ruins are a great place for learning how to run down perps.”

Sansa stopped crying for a moment. “I’m sorry they didn’t let you in Arya, you would have made an excellent police woman.”  
_________________________________________________________________________

Ramsay and Theon huddled over the stub of a 50 gallon drum with a fire burning in it. The smell of gasoline and old wood, wafted up the remnants of a chimney in the old fort. “Hold still, fucker! If you burn me, I will gut you like a fish!” Ramsay growled around his cigar, as he held the spoon over the zippo lighter his companion was trying to hold under it. The smell of cooking heroin filled their nostrils as the crystals melted.

“Well if you’d stop moving it would be easier!” Theon retorted, staring up at his cohort.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Ramsay said, easing the spoon away from the flame. “Get the needle!”

Theon flipped the lighter closed and moved to the little black leather case next to the fire barrel. He removed a long glass syringe and a length of rubber tubing. He put the tubing in his mouth and grabbed the syringe in one hand and the end of the plunder in the other. He moved to Ramsay’s side and mumbled, “Now hold still! We don’t want to spill any!”

Ramsay smiled at him, “If we do, it’s coming out of your share, Theon! So YOU be careful!”

Ramsay sat with his cigar in the side of his mouth on a broken column and took off his leather jacket. His t-shirt was stained with the girl’s blood. He rolled up the sleeve of his outer shirt and and wrapped the rubber hose around his arm and injected himself. Theon watching closely and biting his thumbnail. Ramsay took a little more than half, but only a little, before handing the syringe to Theon, “Relax, Theon, I didn’t take it all!

Theon didn’t reply, just stuck out his hand for the hose. He injected himself and the warmth traveled up his arm quickly. He pulled the needle out and put it away, carefully, while he still could. He could feel the euphoria building and the smile that crossed his face was sadly sublime.

“You see, Theon! You worry too much! We’re alright! Nobody saw us and nobody knows we’re up here. Thanks for sharing her by the way. I don’t know how you managed to get a sweet thing like that to go out with you in the first place, but I’m glad you did. Just the way she screamed as we both took turns fucking her was a rush.”

Theon looked at his friend, but couldn’t shake the thought that something was wrong. “I didn’t really want to share her.” He muttered as he picked up the bottle of whisky and took a long pull. “Why’d you have to kill her? She smelled like springtime.”

Ramsay kicked Theon hard enough to knock him over. “Because she could identify us dummy. I don’t like being questioned by the likes of you.” He unbuckled his pants and pulled out his dick. “Fuck I’m still hard, just thinking about her begging, crying women are always a turn on. Come over here and take care of this for me.”

Theon sighed and crawled over on his hands and knees and began to suck his friends dick. He knew better than to refuse Ramsay anything. He only stopped when he heard something. “Hey Ramsay! Somebody’s here!”

Ramsay shoved his head back down on his dick, thrusting it so far into Theons mouth he gagged. “Cool Daddy-O! They can join the bash, man!” Ramsay said, his head laid back and his eyes closed as he came quickly. Theon has a skilled tongue, it was really the only thing that kept him from killing his friend.

Theon wiped his mouth and wandered over to the window. “There are girls down there. A tall redhead and a shorter one?”

“Well, you can have that one, bud, I call dibs on the redhead. If you want her when I’m done, that’s fine. But I get her first!” Ramsay said, smiling and walking ahead.

“You always go first.” Theon muttered to himself, “And they’re not much use once you get done with ‘em, jackass!”

They walked up to the Visitor Center doors and Ramsay yanked them open. “Hello ladies!” He said, too loudly, and smiling a charming smile. “Welcome to the Dreadfort!” He said, eyeing them both and then focusing on the Redhead. They had been moving behind the counter to get at the phone there. They both seemed to jump as if startled.

The redhead froze, but the shorter one answered. “We didn’t have any dimes for a payphone, so we came in to use this one.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, you birds having some trouble?” Ramsay asked, moving to the end of the counter. Pinning them behind it.

The Shorter One put the receiver down and put her hand in her jacket. She stepped in front of The Redhead, putting herself between her and Ramsay. “I wouldn't.”

“Don’t flip your wig, kitten! We’re here to have a blast. Just cool it!” Ramsay said with hands up and spread. “I just want to talk to your friend, she’s a Real Doll!”

The redhead smiled at him. “You think so?” She leaned forward a little and Ramsay kicked his lips. “You don’t remember us do you. I’m Sansa Stark and this is Arya.”

Ramsay looked startled, he knew the name but couldn’t place it with the drugs running through his system. Before he had time to react Arya had slammed a police baton into his temple. He saw stars and staggered. She then brought her foot up into his balls with a solid kick that dropped him to his knees. She kicked his nose, shattering it, and he fell back, stunned.

Theon had watched in shock as Arya pummeled Ramsay and how he went down in less than three seconds. He barely had time to say, “What the fuck?” Before the little wildcat was on him.

He tried to grab her, but she slid to the floor and grabbed his dick through his pants twisting it in her vice grip. He let out a gargled scream before Sansa rushed over and smashed the whisky bottle in his face, filling his eyes with alcohol, adding a new agony. He was sure there was glass stuck in his face and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

“Get off your ass, Theon. These bitches are gonna PAY!” Ramsay shouted behind him.

They staggered up. Ramsay leading slowly and Theon inching his way behind. “Those are the Stark girls.” Theon whispered. “I used to be friends with their brother….before…”

“Shut up! I am going to fuck both of them with a switchblade after that little stunt!” Ramsay said hotly, before reaching into his pocket to withdraw the blade.

Theon couldn’t walk anymore and slipped into a side room, he didn’t understand what was happening anymore. He hadn’t seen the girls since they were children and now he was hunting them? Why? He needed some more drugs to think clearly. He looked up and saw Sansa step out of the shadows like an avenging angel.

“Did you rape her Theon? Did you rape and murder Jayne?” She looked frightening with wild hair and dead eyes.

Theon cried and nodded. “I’m sorry Sansa. I liked her, I really did. But Ramsay…. he said I had to share. I had to. Gods, I can still hear her screaming.” He leaned forward to grab Sansa and beg for forgiveness.

She only raised her hand and holding a Police .38, she stepped forward placing the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “This is for Jeyne!” shooting him between the eyes.

Ramsay heard a gunshot and stepped into the room. He caught a glimpse of himself in the distorted, aged, mirror. He looked like something out of a nightmare, with shattered nose and blood dripping down his chin.

“You’re a real cunt you know that?” He said to Sansa. “I’m Ramsay Bolton, and you’re going to pay for killing my pet.”

He watched her cock her head at him. “Bolton? Your no Bolton, you’re just a Snow. You were born a bastard and you’ll die a bastard. He watched her cock the pistol with a stupid grin on her face. She shot once, hitting him low on the left side. He winced, but stood back up, the blood seeping through his shirt.

He scoffed at her, “I am a BOLTON! And it will take more than one bullet to bring me down.”

“We’re not going to kill you, right now. We’re just going to do to you what you did to Jeyne.” The voice came from the little one who he hadn't seen coming out of the shadows to stand beside him. Arty? Or whatever her name was. She hit him soundly over the head. And all he saw was darkness.

They found the bodies of Jeyne Poole and Ramsay Snow beneath a tree. The body of Ramsay was lying naked, his testicles removed and the word “Rapist” carved into his chest. His face was almost burned beyond recognition and a metal rod had been forcefully inserted so far into his rectum, it had punctured his intestines. The coroner believed the rod had been heated at the time of entry, possibly from being in a fire. Neither victim was wearing any shoes.

A bulletin was issued for the arrest of Theon Greyjoy, who was the number one suspect.in the murders and the fire at The Dreadfort, he was presumed to be armed and dangerous. Anyone with any information on his whereabouts was urged to call the police immediately.


	4. Sansa/Oberyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn is the looking for an Immortal Bride

The Mummy

Sansa/ Oberyn

Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, chanted the incantation through dessicated lips, the wrappings that held his shattered skull together made it difficult to enunciate correctly, this was all for show of course. The lovely girl bound before him crying was merely the bait. He only needed one final watchman to consume before his mummified body would become once again flesh. One step closer to him bringing back his beloved Ellaria.

The Gods were cruel to separate them as they did but soon he would be a God and the world would tremble before him.

“Master beware!” His servant ‘‘Little Fingers,’ shouted out, pointing across the room.

The man who had broken into his crypt stood before him dressed in strange clothes and carrying something he had learned were called ‘guns.’ It flashed and the impact struck Oberyn in the chest, a second tore away part of his lower jaw and cheek. He roared as the scarabs inside him rushed to repair the damage. He flashed a predator’s smile as his flesh reformed. The young man was brave and full of courage but he backed away from Oberyn just the same, his eyes scanning the room.

“Jon, RUN!” the redhead on the altar screamed. “He will kill you!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Jon shouted back.

It was not above Prince Oberyn's notice that the little weasel Little Fingers was attempting to free the redheaded maiden. He’d seen the way his servant lusted after her. No mortal man had a right to openly gaze upon a vessel with such a lack of respect. He wanted to pluck the man’s eyes out and feed them to him but he was distracted by yet another blast from ‘Jon’.

He roared again and fell upon the man as he swung his long gun at his head. The blow sent a vibration through them both as his mummified head head lolled to the side as if broken before straightening out once again. Jon grasped the long gun in both hands to swing again when Prince Oberyn backhanded him across the room watching him slam into a wall, stunned.

He walked over and lifted him up from the ground, one-handed pressing him against the wall. “I will feast on you, hero! I will devour not only your life, but your very soul! You broke into my crypt and stole what was mine. You ignored the curse and you will pay the price. Do not call upon the Gods for I am your God now!” Oberyn stared up at this puny human before him. Jon looked terrified but Oberyn knew he didn’t understand his language it was ancient and mostly forgotten. But even if the man didn’t know the words he would learn the meaning. He opened his mouth and drew the man’s soul from his body, he felt a rush as he devoured not only his Ka, his Lifespark, but also his Sheut, his Shadow, his Ib, his Heart and emotions and and his Ren, his Name.

He heard the woman scream behind him, “JON, NO! NOOOOOOOO!” She broke away from the servant and rushed him pounding on him with her fists her face twisted in grief and anguish.

He held her as she raged and wondered who’d held Ellia when she’d raged at his death. As his body rejuvenated with the final piece he felt himself grow stronger and the woman before him growing weaker. He could crush her, but his soul had broken, he only wished to hold her. She gazed at Jon’s husk of a body and collapsed.

Sansa woke up on an altar her heart shattered. She could see the Prince preparing for the ritual but all she could think about was Jon. He was raised as her brother but adored for so much more. His quiet laughter and his strength. And now he was dead. She’d read from the book, she wanted to raise The Prince. She didn’t understand the cost. It was her life’s pursuit to read from The Book of The Dead. She had unleashed a curse upon the world and had damned them all.

She laid down on the altar when the mummy approached he looked human again but all she saw was evil. Baelish tied her down and she didn’t fight it, she had no will left. The Prince kissed her and looked at her strangely when she didn’t respond to it.

He began chanting the ritual and she watched as the dissipated spirit of his lost love, Ellaria beginning to manifest and coagulate above her body. She just stared blankly preparing herself for the moment the spell would rip her soul from her body, leaving her husk for Ellaria to enter.

“Tell her my name was Sansa.”

Prince Oberyn felt a feeling of regret as he gazed upon Sansa. She was beautiful, herself, nothing like Ellaria in looks, but there had been something about her that drew him to her when he awoke. The curse had drawn him forth to wreak vengeance, but he had another, stronger drive. Centuries of Purgatory had taught him perspective. Sansa was steadfast and resolute even in the face of a fate worse than death. He could see that while she may look fragile she had a will forged of Valyrian Steel.

There was something that happened when he ingested the souls of men, their residual essence never fully left him and the soul of Jon made him see Sansa for whom she really was. Kind and generous, loving and loyal. She deserved better than this. His heart ached for Ellaria and their desperation but he’d had many lovers in his lifetime. After his death Ellaria had changed into a being of cruelty and vengeance. What would happen if he brought her back and made her a God?

He drew in the essence that had been Ellaria, but as he drew them into the body that was Sansa, he only drew in the KA, and the Ib. He left out the Shadow and her Name. Sansa would remain Sansa, but now she would have the knowledge and power of Egypt and the feelings towards him, and she would have it without losing herself. The spirit of Ellia screamed and tried to claw at him but he banished her back to the shadows where she’d come from.

What have you done to me, O-Oberyn?” Sansa said, putting her hands to her temples as he released her.

“I have given you a great gift, My Queen!” He said, smiling as she sat up. The ceremonial gown he had dressed her in covered very little and the diaphanous fabric hid even less. He seemed to be admiring both aspects as he helped her climb off the table.

“Baelish come!” She beckoned the servant forward and kissed him drawing the essence out of his body, the power of a god coursing through her veins. She knelt before Jon and kissed him reviving him. He sat up gasping and she smiled at him. He would never be the same and there would always be a piece of Baelish inside him but she cared not, as long as she could raise the dead.

“Death is only the beginning.” The voice belonged to Oberyn and she leaned into him as his hands slid around her. ““Look at me.” He ordered, not unkindly. Sansa looked up at him with lust in her eyes. She reached up and stroked his chest with her fingertips. Oberyn closed his eyes at the long forgotten sensation and the energy passing between them. He opened his eyes and reached down to cup the back of her head, his fingers sliding through her silky red hair. Her eyes closed with pleasure at the sensation, then widened as he tightened his fist in her hair. He leaned down and drew her in for a kiss, a mortal kiss this time, their lips grasping and their tongues entwining, searching each other, probing. The kiss was both passionate and loving, not as brutal as his kisses with Ellaria had been, yet pleasing, nonetheless!

He didn’t feel rage or anger inside her but a curiosity. They were Newborn Gods their minds intertwining absorbing one another’s memories.

Sansa broke the kiss first her heart filling with grief for his sister, she shed a single tear and he caught it with his smooth hands. He also looked upset but it was because he was experiencing the way she had felt at the loss of Jon through her eyes. He scooped her up and carried her deep within the chamber, leaving the revivified Jon behind to guard them, to a golden room full of treasure and at the center, a large bed with silken sheets. He untied her ceremonial gown watching it fall from her shoulders before he laid her on the bed the silky feel of the sheets on her sensitive skin exciting her further.

Oberyn climbed up onto the bed next to her, leaning over her, to explore the amazing blue eyes before him. Hers searched his face as well, trying to meld the memories she had inherited with what she was seeing now for herself. He inhaled the fragrance of her hair and she parted her legs before him already wet with anticipation. “My Sansa, we belong to each other now and together we will rule this world as gods!” And he tore off his loincloth, his throbbing member entered her and the feeling was just as he remembered, but sweeter, for this woman was fresh and new and her gasp as he entered, it was worth the centuries of waiting. She moaned and rocked her hips to his rhythm. She cried out his name as his thrusts came faster and harder, her legs wrapped around him and her nails raked his back. When he came, it was an explosion in both their minds. “My Sansa! My Queen!”

“My Oberyn! My God! My Pharaoh!” He flipped her and took her from behind relishing the power of the position her screams echoing through the chamber.

Oberyn summoned Jon and soon he joined them in bed, the three of them exploring each other in new ways. They made love to Sansa, both at once, filling her glorious body with their seed. Oberyn fucking her while she sucked her cousin’s cock. The men looking at her and then each other with lust.

Later, Prince Oberyn smiled as he gazed upon his Queen, Jon's head buried between her thighs as she arched her back and moaned, the very walls of the chamber shuddered with her orgasms and dust fell from the ceiling.. Who knew what he and this beautiful creature beside him could do? The possibilities were endless.


	5. Harrold Hardyng/Sansa/Stannis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has an interesting way of contacting The Other Side

Stannis/Sansa

Insidious

Sansa, Paranormal Investigator, stood at the door of her newest client and knocked three times. The young couple had seemed desperate for her help and had even payed her fee in advance. She was the best investigator in the business, her Nan had taught her to travel the shadow realms and communicate with the dead when she was only a child. She was a little girl when she first discovered demons walking amongst mortals. They had hideous faces that can only be seen with a gifted eye or a camera with actual film. Her first demon had flaming eyes and carried a flaming sword. He called himself “The True King.” She couldn’t help but shiver at the memory. Her Nan had given her a medallion of protection to keep any demon from possessing her and she wore it always.

A short curvaceous brunette with a double chin opened the door and practically yanked Sansa inside. She seemed frazzled with messy hair and stained clothes, a crying baby in her arms. “Did you come like I instructed?” She was hissing at Sansa as if she didn’t want the whole neighbourhood to know Sansa was there.

Sansa did her best not to roll her eyes. “Yes Mrs. Hardyng. I took two busses, and three cabs to get here. No one was following me.”

The woman nodded and handed over her screaming child to Sansa before hollering down the hall. “HAROLD! HAROLD! That ghost whisperer is here”

Sansa frowned at that description but rocked the baby soothingly. The infant began to calm down but Sansa could tell she needed a diaper change. A handsome man came around the corner with blonde hair and dimples. He eyed Sansa up and down in approval and made his way over to her.

“Ms. Stark, it’s lovely to make your acquaintance. That dress looks lovely on you.” He leered down her shirt as he spoke causing Sansa to shift uncomfortably, his infant daughter still in her arms.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING I’M STANDING RIGHT HERE!”Miranda began screaming at her husband.

The baby began to cry again and Sansa quickly left to avoid any more awkwardness.

“DID YOU PLAN ON FUCKING HER HERE IN THE HALLWAY?”

With the baby calming down Sansa explored the house leaving the bickering couple behind. She found the baby’s nursery and changed her diaper. She was startled to see a large port wine colored stain covering the left side of her face. She kissed the babies face and saw the words Sara written on the crib.

“Hello Sara.” Sansa cooed and hummed to the baby as she changed her diaper ignoring her fury at the discovery of the neglected diaper rash on her bottom.

When the baby was all settled she carried her back down the hall. The Hardyng’s were sitting at the dining room table coldly looking at one another. Sansa couldn’t help but notice there were no pictures of the baby.

“You told me you believe this house is haunted, but I’ve walked around and haven’t felt anything paranormal. Tell me about the disturbances you’ve been experiencing.”

They both looked uncomfortable but Harold spoke first. “We heard a male voice on the baby monitor. The kid’s toys would fly across the room. The front door would often lock preventing me from leaving…."

Myranda rudely interrupted , “The other day I was trying to feed her and I felt someone shove me to the ground, something’s tried to push me down the stairs, lock me in the garage with the car running!" She looked at the baby accusingly. “Maybe it’s not the house, maybe it’s her!”

Harold snorted. “For God’s sake Randa. She’s just a baby, an ugly one, but still a baby.”

Sansa held the baby closer to her chest. These had to be the worst clients she’d ever dealt with! The baby seemed to fall asleep in her arms so she placed her in a bassinet in the corner.

“I’m going to contact the spirits in this house. Whatever you see me say or do, pay no mind. Ghosts can be deceptive but I’ll get to the bottom of things. Do not, under any circumstances, break my concentration..”

They both nodded in agreement. Sansa leaned back and closed her eyes projecting herself into the astral plane. She knew it wasn’t the house but the family that was haunted. She walked around in the shadows as she’d done countless times looking for The King. She found him, of course where he always was, sitting on a throne of swords alone in a room that smelled of burned ash and the sound of a girl screaming for help, somewhere in the distance. He sat solemnly, his face seemed etched in stone.

“Your Grace.” Sansa curtsied before him. This particular demon was a stickler for manners.

Suddenly he was in front of her and then behind her all at once. He smelled of sulfur and the sea. She felt the belt around her dress fall loose and the buttons slowly become undone.

Nan had warned her against copulating with a demon, of surrendering her soul to an abomination, but Sansa has been fucking this particular demon since she was sixteen. Long before Nan gave her “the talk.”

 “The mother doesn’t deserve the child." He said, "She neglects it. The girl was born with a fire mark! I had to push her mother down the stairs to keep her from shaking the child in anger.” The King whispered in her ear, yet he suddenly had her lying on her back with his tongue deep inside her. Sansa moaned and gripped his horns as he pleasured her. She tried to listen to him but he had a way of making her come with a simple flick of his forked tongue.

“Please your grace. More.” she moaned.

“You will give me the son I was promised and we will rule the world. Say you will be my queen.” He slipped his tongue out of her and Sansa protested.

“Your soul will be mine for eternity, we will be bound together forever.”

Sansa responded as if in a trance staring into the flames of his eyes as she pleasured herself. “I am yours and you are mine.” She felt her finger heat up and screamed as an Iron band seared into her flesh. But her cries of anguish turned to pleasure as he inserted himself in between her legs and began fucking her.

And so Sansa woke from her trance naked on the dining room table with Harold fucking her in front of his shocked and angry wife. Only it wasn’t Harold, it was The King possessing him. Her True King, in possession of the body of a wealthy and charismatic boy with a promising future in politics.

They fucked with abandon until Myranda began screaming and The King reached over and snapped her neck.

They fucked across her corpse and in every room of the house until the baby cried and The King took the baby and fed and rocked her gently while Sansa caught her breath and grabbed some water.

They would raise the child and the son who was already taking root in her womb. She could feel the demon child within her but she was not afraid. Her King, The One True King, would never hurt her. Oh, he might destroy the world but at least they would end it on their terms. And then their son would build the new world to come, with the girl as His Queen.

Once the baby was settled, he picked her up and carried her back upstairs his demon tongue lapping at her nipple as they ascended the steps. Sansa was vaguely aware that the door she used to contact her lover was left open and that he was also well aware, but as his demon tongue circled her nipple she found she didn’t care much.


	6. Sansa/Drogo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, with a twist.

Pride and Prejudice Zombies Dany/Drogo

“Dany did you see who just walked in? What a magnificent husband he’d make!” Margaery Tyrell linked arms with her and practically swooned as Mr. Harrold Hardyng one of the most eligible bachelors around walked into the room.

Dany noticed her dearest friend Sansa only blushed. The two were closer than sisters and Margaery, a dear but rather shallow friend. “Do you think of nothing else?” Dany rebuked her friend gently.

Margaery only gave a predator’s smile and cast her appraising eye on the Captain of the Guard. “Zombies or no zombies, all women must think of marriage, Dany!”

Dany sniffed haughtily and looked where her friend gazed. Hardyng was handsome enough, with an aquiline nose, sandy brown hair and broad shoulders, but he was too fair for her taste. “I shall never surrender my sword for a ring” Dany said, pridefully.

“For the right man, you would!” Margaery replied, glibly.

“The Right Man wouldn’t ask me to!” She had retorted.

Margaery dropped her gaze, defeated. They had had that argument before.

Just then a tall man wearing all black had entered from outside. His black velvet coat had a high leather collar that framed his neck nicely. His ponytail draped over the top to run down his back. He was more than half a head taller and quite bit broader than every man there and his dark eyes and piercing gaze had drawn the attention of every woman there.

“His name is Count Drogo, he’s from across the sea. They say he’s never been defeated in battle.” Dany smiled as Sansa whispered the information in her ear.The two always knew what the other one needed without asking.

The conversation around her dulled to a buzz after that as she stared at him. She watched his eyes as they looked about, searching. For the exits and access points? For an escape? Or for avenues of attack? Here was a man who would not be taken by surprise. A warrior, a general!

 Harold Hardying waved him over and the Count crossed the room and shook Hardyngs hand vigorously like an old friend. Dany couldn’t help but eavesdrop a little.

“It’s good to see you again my brother.” Dany detected an exotic accent from the Count. “So this is King’s Landing?” He had said, taking in the musicians and dancers, with a look of disgust.

“Oh come now my brother!” Hardyng slapped the Counts back playfully. “This is supposed to be fun! Try to smile at least. Why there is an angel over there look! Have you ever seen such beauty?”

Dany looked over and saw Sansa blush as Hardyng gazed at her speaking with the Count. Dany had nearly leapt from the sparks that flew from their gazing up on each other. Like a deer seeing the lion at the same time the lion notes the deer. Both had frozen and Hardyng seemed to be holding his breath, but it was Sansa that had looked away first, turning to answer one of her friends beside her, a small smile on her face.

“She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld.” Hardyng had said, to no one in particular. Even Dany had to smile at that sentiment.

“She smiles too much.” The Count said, dismissing her. “There are no women here that interest me.”

 Dany’s blood boiled. How dare this foreigner say anything disparaging about Sansa. She could take criticism but Sansa was the kindest, sweetest soul on the earth. Dany immediately detested this “Drogo.”

 “She’s perfect!” Harrold retorted as he walked across the room toward Sansa to ask her to dance.

 Dany continued to mingle and share introductions with all the guests. Sansa and Harrold scandalously continued dancing with each other and no one else setting all the tongues wagging with gossip. But no matter where Dany wandered she could feel Drogo’s eyes on her.

 And then the attack happened.

The screams of the guests were only matched by the screams of the monsters as they poured into the house. Dany joined her “sisters” and friends all arming themselves with swords and staves and wreaking havoc amongst invading monsters. It had been a glorious fight and her sword, Drogon, ran dark with the blood of the vanquished.

When next she’d had time to notice, Count. Drogo was standing there, gazing at her amongst the scattered remains of the dead who had entered the ballroom. He seemed almost impressed? Hardying had rushed to Sansa’s side, her sister seemed to have injured her knee and he insisted on carrying her off the battlefield. Dany rolled her eyes, Sansa was no damsel and had once fought off three monsters with a broken collarbone using only a plank of wood with a nail sticking out of it.

Drogo nodded, as if in approval and Dany turned away coldly. She didn’t “need” his or any man’s approval

. She looked at the scattered remains on the battlefield and began feasting on the brains of a still dying human.

Sansa preferred eating the heart and Margery swore that fresh kidneys were divine but Dany loved brains.

 She looked around as everyone had begun their feeding frenzy. Mr. Hardying and Sansa were sharing a heart which was the most romantic gesture she could imagine until Count Drogo brought her some fresh brains before walking away, tearing into a tongue. The man was most confusing!

She and Sansa spent the next days, sparring and brushing each other’s hair, talking endlessly of Harrold Hardyng and Count Drogo. Sansa was smitten and felt Dany should feel the same, but Dany was repulsed. He was haughty and arrogant and while physically pleasing, he was obviously judgemental and cruel. She was distracted enough that Sansa actually managed to put her on her backside, with a leg sweep she should have seen coming, this was after all a sparring match.

 “You have to pay better attention than that!” She had said, helping her up. “Or it won’t matter if you find Count Drogo suitable or not!” She said smiling. Gloating at finally besting her best friend in the practice circle.

“It is his Pride that revolts me most!” Dany responded standing before spinning for a roundhouse.

 Sansa barely had time to deflect. “If I may so express it, Miss Targaryen, he has a right to be proud!” Sansa had said, smiling at her friend in a soft teasing way.

 “I could easily forgive his pride, Miss Stark if he had not mortified mine. Or should I call you Mrs Hardyng?”

Sansa blushed deeply and Dany punched her friend in the belly, doubling her over.

 “Pride is a very common failing, I believe.” Margaery had said behind her, eyeing her significantly. “Vanity and Pride are very different things, though the words are often used synonymously.”

 And they had bowed and begun sparring so Sansa could catch her breath.

 “Why waste our time thinking on men? What are men to rocks and mountains?” Dany challenged them both before they heard the door of the shed open.

“GIRLS!” All three of them turned around as Mrs. Stark stood in the doorframe. “Oh my! Are all three of you sparring? How will you find husbands is you spend your time building muscle?” She wrung her hands in worry as the girls all rolled their eyes. “NED! Ned this is all your fault!” She turned and left them screeching for her husband.

“Come Sansa, come Margaery we mustn’t build muscle!” The girls all descended into giggles as Dany mimicked Catelyn Stark perfectly.

 All three girls linked arms as they headed into the house where Mr. Stark was no doubt being berated by his wife and in need of some relief.

“I think there’s still some carcasses left that are past mobilizing!” They all laughed as they rushed to feed.


	7. Sandor/Sanda/Gregor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Gregor face some misunderstands after saving Sansa.

Sansa/Sandor/Gregor Clegane

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil 

"You know, Gregor, I think those guys have some kind of suicide pact, or something!” Sandor Clegane told his brother. “That Sir Loras just jumped right into that bear pit while I was feeding it, the stupid cunt!”

“You think so? That Kinsguard didn’t even move when that stone gargoyle Sansa knocked loose fell on him. He just stared up at it as it fell! Hey, maybe they’re trying to kill Sansa, too!” Gregor said, looking around the hall at Harrenhal.

They had come here to Harrenhal to clean the place up after Gregor was named Lord. They were riding down the road when this carriage carrying Prince Joffrey, Sir Loras Tyrell, Prince Oberyn, Ellaria Sand, Margaery Tyrell, and Sansa Stark had driven past them. Surrounded by several of the Kingsguard.

The party had all stared at the two brothers as they road past like they were freaks. Sure, Gregor was big, he had a glandular condition, and Sandor had his burn scars.

People often stared at the brothers and made up nasty rumors about them, but anyone who really knew Gregor knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly! He had the smiths make him the thickest armor, so he wouldn’t be hurt by all the other knights who were always trying to beat up on him. He had taken to carrying a big two handed sword and a big, thick shield, just to keep them away!

Gregor was so glad when he was given Harrenhal as his new keep! His family’s place gave him the creeps and people kept disappearing there. Plus, it got him away from those damned Lannisters. They were always stirring up trouble and blaming it on one brother or the other!

Harrenhal was far away from both the Lannisters and Clegane Keep, a “Fixer upper” castle by a lake that they could vacation at when Clegane Keep got too depressing, and he and Sandor had looked forward to cleaning it up.

They had spent their first day cleaning up the great hall and had taken a break to go fishing that night and were out in a boat on God’s Eye Lake, when they heard a ruckus down the shore.

They saw Sansa, standing on a rock, undressing, while and Joffrey and Margaery frolicked in the water.

Sansa was watching something in the bushes and as they listened, they could hear Oberyn and Ellaria and Loras were having a different kind of fun.

Sansa turned and saw them watching her watching the lovers and lost her footing and fell into Lake. When she didn’t surface right away, Gregor had jumped in after her.

They had tried to flag down the Prince’s Party, but they had all run away when they saw them lift Sansa's  limp  form ito their boat.They had taken Sansa back to Harrenhal, to patch her up. She had hit her head when she fell in the lake.

Eventually, she woke up and once they explained things, she was a bit disturbed to be dressed in one of Sandors tunics, but when she gave them the chance to explain what had happened, she perked right up. She even offered to help fix up the hall!

But then things started happening...

 

Gregor tried to pry a loose stone loose from the top of the wall to replace it. It was right next to one of the stone gargoyles that overlooked the wall, where burning oil could have been poured on attacking armies.

Sansa walked up the stairway unsteadily. “What are you doing, Gregor?” Sansa asked with curiosity. She had taken a belt and wrapped it around her waist and it hugged her lithe form nicely and revealed quite a bit of soft white skin on her legs.

“Oh, hello my lady! Are you feeling better?” Gregor said, trying not to stare, “ I'm trying to pry this loose stone up so we can replace it before it falls and stoves someone's head in!” He answered her cheerfully.

“Gregor, I told you before, you can call me Sansa. My good friends even call me Sans. You can call me that, if you like. After all, you did save my life!” She said, smiling at him. “I'm feeling much better! Can I help? We Northern Ladies aren't all simpering embroiderers, you know!”

Gregor felt funny letting her help him, but he decided that if she wanted to, she could help him, "There's  a pry bar over there my la... Sans. " He said awkwardly.

"Where's Sandor? I thought he would be helping you?” Sansa asked, prying at the stone from the other side with a heavy pry bar.

“Oh, Sandor is feeding the bear in the pit, Sans.” Gregor explained, smiling at using her familiar..

“You have a bear in a pit?” Sansa asked, shocked.

“Oh, no! I mean, we do have a bear and he's in a pit...but We didn't put him in there. He was like that when we got here, Sans, honest! I guess the fellas who lived here before us just up and left when they heard we was coming! They just left him down there! Sandor has been feeding him from our stores of meat, but we are trying to figure a way to get him out, poor thing!” he replied,

“Well I should hope so!” Sansa said, mollified.

Just then there was a shout from below, on the outside of the wall. The two of them stopped and Gregor turned to Sansa, “Why don't you take a break while I see what this fellow wants?” He said, putting the pry bar on his shoulder and leaning out over the wall,

“What do you want?” He shouted down to the man standing there. It appeared to be one of the Kingsguard and Prince Joffrey sitting his horse close behind him and holding the knight's reins.

“We have come for the lady Sansa!” The man called up.”We demand you release her immediately, in the name of Prince Joffrey!”

Sansa had been leaning against the stone gargoyle, resting, when she thought she'd heard someone say her name. She pushed off from the gargoyle which had been loosened by their efforts and it slowly toppled off the wall.

Below, the Kingsguard stared up, incredulously as The Mountain apparently tipped one of the huge stone gargoyles one-handed. All he could do was stare up at it as it plummeted down. “Oh shi…” was all he got out before the corner landed on him, crushing his head into the ground.

“Look out!” Gregor shouted in vain, then watched in horror as the gargoyle, which had toppled and landed on a corner, slowly settled until its base was flat. Crushing the upper half of the Kingsguard and causing a gout of blood and shit to shoot out of his rectum from the pressure, spraying Joffrey and his horse.

All Joffrey could do was close his mouth which had hung open in disbelief, and spit out what had sprayed into his mouth. He turned his horse and rode off in terror and disgust screaming "You'll pay for this!"over his shoulder. 

Sansa went to lean over, to see what had happened when Gregor turned to rush down the stairs and see if he could help the man and hit Sansa in the head with his pry bar. She cried out and collapsed. So he dropped the pry bar and carried her back into the hall instead.

He bandaged her new wound and went to fetch water from the well.

Meanwhile, Sandor tried to pick up a deer carcass they had from their supply wagon. He meant to cut a piece of meat to feed the bear in the pit. He drew his dagger and began to carve a leg off the carcass.

As he was doing that, Sansa woke on the couch. She didn't see Gregor anywhere and her head hurt terribly. She decided to go see Sandor and this bear they had in a pit, so she staggered into the central yard of the keep.

Her vision was a bit blurry, but she could see a couple of figures in the center of the yard, so she stumbled In that direction. She could hear the bear moaning and groaning as she approached

Sir Loras crept up on The Hound from behind. His dagger in his hand. Maybe killing The Hound this way wasn't entirely noble, but it wasn't as if the fiend was a knight or something. “Just a dog to be put down” was how Prince Joffrey had put it.

Loras walked around the edge of the pit, a huge, but emaciated bear was at the bottom, ten feet below. It moaned and groaned and reached up for him, but his paws did not come close to the edge where Loras crept. The Hound was carving something to throw into the pit. Sir Loras could only hope it was not the body of poor Lady Stark.

Sansa approached the figure closest to her, but she stumbled and leaned hard against his back. The figure turned quickly, but that ruined what was left of his precarious balance and he tumbled into the pit with a shout and a crash of armor.

Sansa collapsed from her head injury and Sandor whirled to see with surprise that Sir Loras Tyrell had jumped into the pit with nothing in hand but his dagger. The starving bear set upon this fresh meat with glee. He could smell the scent of the one who had given it to him as he swept a paw, smashing into Loras’ arm, sending the dagger flying. Before he could draw his sword, the bear was on him, tearing him limb from limb as he screamed.

Sandor could only watch in horror. “Stupid cunt!” He said, shaking his head. There was nothing he could do for him. Then he noticed Sansa laying on the ground near the pit. “Sansa? What are you doing here? Did you see what that idiot just did?” But there was no answer.

He scooped her up and took her back into the hall. He laid her back down on the couch as Gregor came in with a bucket of water.

“You know, Gregor, I think those guys have some kind of suicide pact, or something!” Sandor Clegane told his brother. “That Sir Loras just jumped right into that bear pit while I was feeding it, the stupid cunt!”

“You think so? That Kingsguard didn’t even move when that stone gargoyle Sansa knocked loose fell on him. He just stared up at it as it fell! Hey, maybe they’re trying to kill Sansa, too!” Gregor said, looking around the hall at Harrenhal.

“We should go check on that other guy. I had to take care of Sansa and never got the chance, Sandor!” Gregor replied.

“You’re right, we should at least check,” Sandor said. “maybe it’s not so bad.”

They went outside to check on the other Kingsguard and found his lower half sticking out from beneath the gargoype. It really was quite large. His upper half was squashed to maybe the width of Gregor’s sword blade, beneath the stone.

“Oh, no. It’s that bad. What are we going to do?” Gregor asked his brother, “They’re gonna blame us for this for sure!”

“We’ll just have to hide the bodies.” He said looking down, “Or what’s left of them. You move the rock and I’ll grab his feet. We’ll drag him out from under there and throw what's left in the bear pit or bury him somewhere nobody will find him and then just play dumb. That shouldn’t be too hard for you!”

Gregor frowned, but leaned his shoulder against the stone and that corner lifted. Sandor pulled but the body didn’t move. So he lifted the stone higher, grunting, and Sandor pulled as hard as he could. There was a meaty squishing and tearing sound and the lower half pulled loose, sending Sandor sprawling with the bloody mess on top of him.

“Aah! Get it off! Get it off!” Sandor screamed, “Get it the fuck off of me! Oh, gods it stinks!”

Gregor grabbed an ankle and dragged the remains off of Sandor. “Are you ok, little brother?”

“I’m fine, but did you have to drag him across my face?” He said, standing up. His upper torso and face covered in the blood and entrails of the fallen Kingsguard.

When Gregor opened his mouth to apologize, Sandor silenced him with a look. “Let’s just get rid of him so we can get back to the girl!”

They heard a gasp behind them to find Prince Oberyn standing there with his long spear and Ellaria Sand with her daggers out, standing not twenty feet away. They had obviously overheard that last part.

“What do you two monsters think you are doing?” Prince Oberyn asked coldly.

“That’s not very nice!” said Gregor, frowning.

Sandor motioned for him to be quiet. “The Kingsguard came here and apparently committed suicide, the stupid cunts!”Sandor tried to explain. “One stood beneath this gargoyle as it fell and Sir Loras threw himself into our bear pit! It’s not out fault the bear tore him to pieces! I was trying to feed him!”

“You expect me to believe, that that Sir Loras Tyrell willingly threw himself into a Bear Pit?” Oberyn said, slowly, “And that this poor devil just stood there while you dropped a stone gargoyle on his head? Do you take me for an imbecile?”

 “But that’s exactly what happened! We were just minding our own business, me and Sandor and Sansa!” Gregor exclaimed.

Sandor turned to look at his brother incredulously and rolled his eyes.

“So you admit you abducted Lady Stark?” Oberyn said, growing heated. “Where is she?”

“Where have you been raping her, Dog?” Prince Joffrey said riding up with his crossbow leveled at them. He still smelled of his earlier encounter.

“Stay out of this Baratheon!” Oberyn shouted back over his shoulder. “This fight is mine!”

“Fight? I don’t want no fight!” Gregor said, upset, “We didn’t do nothing to Lady Sansa, except save her from drowning. She fell in the lake and hit her head after she fell, on accounta she was startled to see us watching her watch you with your lady friend and the late Sir Loras over there and what you were doing in the bushes!””

“And you just accidentally smashed my beloved sister Elia’s child’s head into a wall before you raped her too, I suppose? “

But Oberyn didn’t wait for and answer. He and Ellaria moved in together, Ellaria with her daggers ready and Oberyn spinning to add momentum to his slash at Gregor.

Just then, Sansa had staggered around the corner The sight of her distracted Prince Oneryn and he swung lower than he intended.

Gregor was too stunned by the suddenness of the attack to even move and the bladed spear tip hit his thick armor and bounced off, slashing Ellaria in the thigh. She screamed and fell back. Oberyn stared at what he had done in shock. “Ellaria! NO!” My spear… it was poisoned!”

“Poisoned?” Ellaria said, staring down at her wound and then back at Oberyn, “Poisoned with WHAT?” she shouted back.

“With Manticore blood, my beloved. Diluted to kill slowly. I never intended…” He said, tears forming in his eyes.

“Mountain! You monster!” Prince Joffrey screamed, but was also distracted by the sight of Sansa, staggering out with a crude bandage wrapped around her head. Firing his his crossbow at Gregor’s chest instead of his head.

The bolt bounced off the ridiculously thick armor and ricocheted, striking Prince Oberyn in the temple. The bolt passing through to the other side. Oberyn fell on his face before Ellaria, who screamed.

Joffrey put the crossbow to his boot and drew the string back and reloaded, then fired again, and the bolt bounced off again, this time striking Ellaria in her other leg.

“You have got to be kidding me!” she screamed, falling to the ground. She began to writhe in agony.

Joffrey dropped the crossbow and attempted to draw his sword, but his hip quiver of bolts was getting in the way, so he ripped them away and tossed them to the ground.

Gregor rushed forward to help the Prince when he heard Sansa say, “What in the Hell's is going on here?” He turned to look at her and tripped, falling forward and landing on Prince Oberyn's head, crushing it beneath his breastplate just as lady Margaery rode up and saw Prince Oberyn lying lifeless on the ground, his head just a bloody splash on the ground.

She screamed and dismounted to fall to her knees before Joffrey’s crossbow, “My Prince! No! We were to be married!”

“Married? You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Ellaria said, snapping out of her agony for a moment of clarity, then the pain returned and all she could do was scream.

Margaery had picked up the crossbow as Joffrey continued, unsuccessfully, to draw his sword. She tried to draw it, but it was too hard for her to pull, so she turned it around with the handle on the ground and the bow facing her and she put her foot on the string and stomped it into place.

“You really shouldn’t load it like that, m’lady, the trigger is loose…” Gregor said, trying to be helpful, but she ignored him.

She put a bolt into the groove and was bending down to pick it up by the handle when her knee bumped the stock and the bow fired, right into her face. The head of the bolt actually stuck out of the top of her head as she fell, planting her into the ground like and upside-down V.

“Oooh!” Gregor and Sandor said wincing. Sandor ending with a “Stupid cunt!”

Joffrey gave up trying to draw his sword,, now that it was two against one! “You’ll pay for this! I want the Lady Sansa back! Return her or I will return with an army and burn this whole place to the ground with you in it!” And he turned and rode away.

Sansa staggered over, her eyes wide in disbelief at the carnage she had just witnessed. “What just happened? What the fuck just happened?” She shouted at them both.

“They’re all crazy!” Gregor exclaimed, to Sansa, turning to his brother! “Now what?”

“Well, for starters, let’s put this cunt out of her misery. There’s no cure for Manticore’s blood.” He said walking towards Ellaria, still writhing and screaming on the ground.

“We can’t just kill her!” Gregor protested.

“Why not? She was trying to kill us! And besides, we can’t cure her, so we might as well put the stupid bitch out of her misery! Besides, her screaming is giving me one of Your headaches!” Sandor replied, stabbing her in the heart with Oberyn’s spear.

Gregor sighed,“You know, people would treat you a lot nicer, if you were nicer. Calling people names just puts them in a sour mood towards you.” Gregor told his brother.

“That's true, Sandor!” Sansa said, wincing as he stabbed Ellaria, silencing her screams.”You catch more flies with honey, as my old Nan used to say! Let's get some logs and see if we can get that bear out of the pit!’

Gregor washed Prince Oberyn off his armor, then hey rolled some logs in at an angle and the bear scrambled up them and out of the pit. It walked sedately over to Sansa and sniffed her.

She held perfectly still and was startled when it began licking her hand. She reached up to scratch its head and he leaned into it. “Aww! He's just a sweetheart!”

Sandor and Gregor stared in amazement.

“What?” She said, looking at each of them and smiling, “I've always had a way with animals!”

The bear wandered off and Sansa turned to watch him go, then turned back to the brothers. “What do we do about Joff?”

“What can we do?” Sandor asked? “He is a sniveling bag of shit, but he is the Prince!”

“Language, Sandor!” Sansa said, primly.

“Sorry.” Sandor said, sheepishly.

“I tell you what! I will go talk to him, myself. He's the one who has this crazy idea you guys took me against my will. Let me go explain it to him!”Sansa said determined.

“I dunno, Sans. By yourself?” Gregor replied, “It don't seem right, letting you go off alone.”

“Fine.” Sansa said, “You two can follow me, but stay out of sight!. Let's see if we can round up Margaery's horse for me!”

So they rode out, Sansa several horse lengths ahead. When they arrived at the camp, Joffrey was ranting at the two remaining Kingsguard.

“I want their heads on pikes! I want their flayed skins made into a cloak!” He shouted, spit shooting from the edges of his mouth. “I want the Lady Sansa back unharmed, with Lady Margaery dead, she is my last hope for a decent looking bride!"

Sansa's nostrils flared at that. You really are an insensitive bully, Joff!” She shouted as she approached, “D'you know that? I have been polite and sweet and put up with your crap, but enough's enough!”

“Sansa?” Joffrey said, disbelievingly, “is that really you? Did they just let you go?”

“Let me go? They saved me from drowning when I fell and hit my head! Not that you people cared! You ran off and left me!” Sansa shouted at Joffrey.

“We were naked! And it was The Mountain and The Hound, Sansa! We went back for weapons and reinforcements!” Joffrey said petulantly. “What were we supposed to do?”

“I don't know, ask them if I was ok?” Sansa replied sneering.

“So you have been with them this whole time of your own free will? And how have you been spending your time with them, my lady? On your back? Is that the type you spread your legs for?”

Gregor rode forward at that. “You watch your mouth, boy! You don't have to take that from him, Sans!”

“Wait. ‘Sans’? SANS! YOU HAVE BEEN FUCKING HIM! YOU LIKE BEING RAPED BY THE MOUNTAIN!” He screamed at her, then turned cold, “If I had known that was your preference, I would not have been so gentle in my courting. I will rectify that after these two are dead!”

“There hasn't been any of that, you petulant child!” Sansa said coldly. “I merely allow him to use my familiar name because he has EARNED it! Unlike you!”

“Bitch, I will whip the skin from your back, myself and have you begging for more when we're done!” Joffrey said, practically foaming at the mouth.

Behind him, as he was ranting, he failed to notice that the bear had wandered into camp. The two remaining Kingsguard stood for a moment and then fled for their lives.

Gregor saw the bear and got a whiff of Joffrey's armor. It still smelled of crushed Kingsguard. “Um, your highness, there's something you should know…”

Sandor said to his brother, “Gregor, dont.”

Just as Joffrey shouted “Silence Dogs! You are Lannister Dogs and you will heel or I will have you put down! Ready the heavy crossbows!”He said, turning. But the Kingsguard had fled and the bear reared up on its hind legs until it stared Joffrey in the face.

It sniffed the air and roared. Joffrey screamed, but it was cut off as the bear clamped his jaws on his face. Then he lifted Joffrey off his horse, which bolted, and shook him like a rag doll. The bones in his neck snapping audibly and his body going limp.

Sandor and Gregor were stunned. Sansa looked on as the bear began to feed. “Good bear!” She said warmly, then turned. “Stupid cunt!” And she walked her horse away, smiling.


	8. Cersei/Jaime/Sansa/Petyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky. They're altogether ooky, the Lannister Fammily!

Sansa/Jaime/Cersei

The Lannister Fammily

They lived in the creepy big red house at the top of the hill. They were weird and eccentric, but they were rich, and not afraid to spend it, so people gave them leeway.

The carriage rolled up to the gates in front of the house, which opened without any sign of a gate tender. The driver nervously drove into the yard and pulled up in front of the house. He got down and pulled out the steps.

The man who stepped out was well dressed, but not tall, not unattractive, but not handsome. He walked up the steps to the front door and lifted the huge door knocker and let it drop against the tall door. There was a massive Boom as it struck.

Moments later the door opened and the man looked into the torso of a massive man. His gaze traveled up and up, to a gruesome face. Bloodshot eyes in a purplish-colored, infected looking face

. “YOU RANG?” The massive man's voice was deep and resounding.

“How do you do? I am Petyr Baelish, Esquire. I am seeking Mr. Lannister on a business matter?” He said, removing his bowler hat.

The massive creature stared at him and rumbled, “MMMMMM”

“Oh Mountain! I will see to our guest!” A woman stepped from the base of the stairs.

She was golden haired and wore a golden dress, she melded into the decor of the house, which seemed to be overly-gilt.

Gold everywhere, and Baelish's felt this palms begin to itch. The WEALTH! He thought. “Mrs. Lannister? I am Petyr, Petyr Baelish. I am very pleased to meet you!” He said, smiling charmingly beneath his mustache.

“Please call me Cersei!” She smiled coolly. “My husband is not here at the moment, but he should return soon! Would you care to wait in the solar?”

She motioned him inside and the huge man stepped back to allow him entry, but he stared at him in a most uncomfortable way. Like he could see into his soul. His deepest desires and fears.

He followed her down the hall. He could not fail to notice her slim, tall form was highlighted by her skintight dress. With a tight hem at the knees and a flaring frill. She was forced to walk at the knees, but she walked with easy grace.

“I hope you will be comfortable here? I hope that you can stay for dinner?” She said, opening the doors to the solar.

The gold was even more obvious here and Petyr was appalled at the wealth on display. ”I will be most comfortable here, thank you.” He said smiling again. “I would love to join your family for dinner.”

“Wonderful! Thing, please let Granny know we will have a guest for dinner!” She said to no one he could see. There was a skittering sound in the hall, Baelish turned but could see nothing to cause it.

‘Would you care for some wine, Mr. Baelish?” She said, smiling. “I prefer the Arbor Gold, myself.” She said, pouring herself a glass from a crystal decanter. But we have an excellent red as well, dark as blood!”

“Some of the Gold, if you please, Mrs. Lannister!” He replied, smiling at the double meaning.

He looked at the coffee table in front of him and there were several magazines laid out on it. He noted the top two were “Red Wedding Planner” and “All Thing Dismembered”...the titles were unfamiliar and slightly unsettling.

“Cersei, please, Mr. Baelish. And may I call you Petyr?” She smiled coquettishly at him. “I do hope we can be friends!”

“You may, Mrs...Cersei. And I hope so, too!” he said, meaning it.

Just then, two children ran in. One looked much like his mother, golden haired and blue eyed, dressed head to foot in gold colored cloth. He wore a golden crown and had golden rings on every finger, all linked by golden chains, but the other could not have been more different. Long, dark red hair, parted down the middle was braided on either side to frame her face. She was dressed in grey with a black collar on her dress. In her hand was a book, “Pride and Prejudice, Zo...” the rest of the title was covered by her pale hand. The buckle of the belt she wore at her slim waist looked like a wolf's snarling head.

The girl spoke first. “Oh there you are, mother! There is a storm coming and we were wondering if we could play on the roof? It looks like there might be lightning.” she said, her voice cold and almost emotionless.

“Whyever would you want to do that?” Petyr exclaimed.

The children turned toward him, eyeing him coldly, like a piece of meat in a butcher shop. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Why? To conduct experiments, of course!” The girl said calmly. “We want to see if gold conducts electricity “ she said reaching up to touch the boy's crown.

“Children, this is Mr. Baelish. A business associate of father's. He will be joining us for dinner.” Cersei said. “Petyr, may I introduce my children? This is Joffrey and Wednesday.”

“Hello.” The children said in unison, “ ‘For’ or ‘As’, mother? And I keep telling you, it's Sansa, not Wednesday!” She said, petulantly.

Their mother smiled, “For!” She said to the children, then turning to Petyr, “Please forgive her, Mr. Baelish, she is going thru a difficult phase. She was very sick a few years ago and has never really been the same since!”

“It's quite alright, Cersei! A phase, eh?” Petyr said smiling, oozing charm, “ Let me guess, boys?”

“Homicide.” The girl said, coldly. “May we, mother?”

“Very well,” their mother said, exasperated, “but be ready for dinner on time, this time!”

The children didn't respond, merely bolted from the room. Petyr could hear them running down the hall and up the stairs. Their little feet pounding staccato rhythm to each other.

“Will they be alright? Playing on the roof like that?” He said, staring after them. There was something about the girl that seemed very familiar…

“I'm sure the children will be fine, old man!” Another voice chimed behind him.

Petyr turned to see a taller man standing next to the bookcase. He was dressed in a gold suit coat, a red shirt with a gold string tie, gold waistcoat and gold-colored slacks. He had golden hair, parted down the middle, and a blonde mustache with a cigar in his mouth. He appeared to have a golden glove on his right hand.

He stepped forward, sticking out his right hand, “You must be Mr. Baelish, I presume?” He said smiling, warmly. “Jaime Lannister!”

“Petyr Baelish!” Petyr said, taking his hand. His smile turned to shock as he realized it was not a glove but a hand made of gold he took to shake.

“I'm very, uh, pleased to make your acquaintance!” He said shaking the hand to judge its weight. Gold plated, not sold gold. _A pity, but it makes sense. That much solid gold would weigh thirty pounds!_ He thought to himself. “Your wife has been a gracious host!”

“Has she?” Jaime said glancing at her. “Good evening, my dear!” He said, totally entranced by her, suddenly.

“Good evening, my love!” She said, equally entranced. “The hours apart were like torture!” She said breathlessly.

He walked over and took her in his arms, taking the cigar out of his mouth mouth his left hand. “Like torture?” He said, growing excited, “Was it painful?” He said breathily.

“Unbearable!” She whispered, “Like being flayed alive!” She said and he kissed her, passionately.

“Like being held over hot coals?” He asked between kisses.

“And seared with hot irons!” She said passionately.

“Oh, my love!” He said and swept her up and dipped her as he kissed her again, her golden locks spilling behind her to the floor.

Petyr grew uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “Uh, hemm!” He said, trying get their attention.

They sprang upright, Jaime turned turned with a smile, “Quite right! Forgive me, old man! We will discuss this later, my pet!” He said, abruptly changing subjects, “To business!”

She had shivered as he said “later” and her eyes never left him. As he stepped away and entered Petyr's personal space.

“What sort of business did you have in mind?” Jaime said, his brows going up and down, rapidly, while his gaze fixed on Petyr's.

“Uh,” Petyr said, taken aback by his quick change of subjects and personal invasion, “Some land has gone into probate, up North, and I was looking for an investor to help me exploit it.” Petyr said, quickly.

Out the window there was a flash of lightning and an immediate crack of thunder! The sound made Petyr jump.

“Steady, old man! It's only the storm! Soon it will not be a fit night out for man, nor beast, nor something in between, hopefully!” He said, patting him on the back with his metallic hand. “You are staying for dinner?”

“We have already discussed it my love!” Cersei said and their eyes locked again.

Before they could become lost in each other again, Petyr moved to the bookcase Jaime had appeared in front of. “This is quite a collection of books!”

“Careful, old man! Knowledge is Power and some of the books are quite old!” Jaime said behind him.

Petyr heard the skittering sound again and someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned to look and a disembodied hand was resting on his shoulder, tapping its index finger. Baelish screamed and squirmed away, the hand falling to the floor.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?” Petyr shouted.

The hand gave the impression of being indignant and then turned and skittered to in front of Cersei and sprung up into her waiting arms.

“Its ok, dear Thing! You just startled him!” She crooned to it. Petting it gently.

“Ah! Dinner must be ready!” Jaime said, trying to set Petyr at ease. “Forgive me, old man! Petyr, this is Thing. Thing, this is Mr. Petyr Baelish, Esquire.” The hand seemed to bow.

“Uh, um, How do you do?” Petyr said, nonplussed, but calming as they were not disturbed by an animated disembodied hand…

The hand sprung from Cersei's and hovered before him, with its posture indicating a hand shake. Petyr cautiously stuck out his hand and it was shaken vigorously for several seconds as if there was an arm there to shake the hand.

“Pleased to meet you, I'm sure!” He said to the hand. The hand released him and dropped to the floor again. Skittering to Jaime and leaping to his shoulder. Petyr subconsciously rubbed his hand on his trousers.

“I lost my hand in a tragic accident, years ago, and Thing appeared not long after, to lend a hand” Jaime said, matter-of-factly.

The hand turned on his shoulder to motion a ‘Thumbs-up’ hand signal.

“Thing, old boy! Would you go let the children and my brother know it is time for dinner?”

The hand bobbed and sprung to the floor and disappeared in the direction the children had gone.

“Don't forget dear Cousin Lancel!” Cersei called after it!

“So land, you say,” Lannister said. Taking up the subject as if nothing had happened. “What sorts of land? Does it have swamps and graveyards and such?” he asked, intrigued “I hear they have a lovely place called The Dreadfort up there! Flayings and beheadings! It sounds grand!” he said, putting his metal hand under Petyr's elbow and guiding him from the solar as lighting and thunder again flashed and boomed, this time followed by an inhuman screaming.

“What's THAT?” Belish asked, startled.

“Oh, it's just the children.” Cersei said, coming up on his right. She laid her hand in the small of his back to keep him moving. “They will be down shortly “ and they guided him down the hallway to a huge dining room.

The gilt table could easily seat two dozen but as they walked down the rows of enameled golden oak chairs, he could see that less than half the place settings had napkins. They guided him to the chair to the right of the head of the table and pulled his chair out. He sat and Cersei pushed his chair in. Easily moving both him and the heavy chair into place. She was alarmingly strong for such a slight frame.

She moved to sit opposite him and Jaime pushed her seat in one handed. He went to take his place when an indignant new voice rang out.

“You're sitting in my spot!” The voice said, enunciating quite carefully.

Petyr turned and came face to face with a dwarf, no taller than he was, sitting down.

The dwarf looked at him and his chair and then up at Jaime. “He's sitting in my spot!”

Jaime smiled uncomfortably. “He is our guest this evening, brother!”

“But that's my spot!” The dwarf replied.

He was bald as an egg, with deep circles beneath his blue eyes under thick blond eyebrows. He wore a blonde goatee and he had a hideous scar running across his face. “Why is he in MY SPOT? I killed father for less, you know!”

“There are plenty of other places to sit, brother! Pick another for tonight. Mr. Baelish is our guest! Petyr, may I introduce my brother, Tyrion. Tyrion, this is Mr. Petyr Baelish. He is here to discuss a business venture!”

Petyr stuck out his hand in greeting, but the dwarf merely stared at it for a moment, before turning and dragging the next chair to Petyr's right out. Petyr assumed he was doing it to sit, but there was the screech of wood dragging and vibrating on stone as he dragged the chair behind Petyr to place it at the corner of the table between Petyr and where Jaime would sit.

“Oh REALLY, old boy! Is this really necessary? It's only one night!” Jaime said and he placed both hands on the chair and somehow carried the dwarf's chair back to its place with him in it.

Tyrion looked indignant and glared at his brother and then Petyr. “FINE!” He said, petulantly and got down from his seat and walked all the way down to the foot of the table, where pulled out that chair and sat down. His head barely seen from this end of the table.

Jaime sighed and sat down. “You must forgive my brother! WE DO NOT OFTEN HAVE GUESTS WHO AREN'T FAMILY” He said in a Stage Whisper that could be heard the length of the room.

Before he could respond, the smell of cooked meat entered his nostrils and he hummed. “Mmmm, that does smell good! What's for dinner?”

Cersei smiled, “But it's only the children!” and turned to the pair as they walked down their mother's side of the table.

Joffrey's hair stood on end and some strands were still smoking. There were singe marks on his forehead and fingers and he looked sort of dazed, but he grinned.

“How did the experiment go? And Joff, where is your crown?” Cersei asked.

“It went well,” the girl replied,”Gold is an excellent conductor of electricity.” She said calmly, her book still in her hand.

“And what of his crown?” Cersei asked again.

“It melted.” The girl replied. She turned to Petyr and said, “You're in Uncle Tyrion's spot.”

“Mr. Baelish is our guest! Joffrey, go sit by Mr. Baelish and Wednesday, you can sit by me.” Cersei told the children.

Joffrey went around the table behind his father and sat down, but Sansa walked to the other end of the table and sat next to her uncle, who smiled, and put her nose in her book.

“Good man, Joff!” Jaime said, and the boy smiled. Electricity arced along his teeth.

While Petyr was staring, he failed to note the entrance of another figure.

He looked up to see a man-sized pile of blonde hair, or someone whose hair was so long and extensive it covered them completely. There was a bowler on top of its head and a string tie identical to Jaime's around what Petyr assumed was its neck.

“Mr. Baelish, may I introduce Cousin Lancel. Cousin Lancel, this is Mr. Baelish, a business associate of Jaime's.” Cersei said.

“Mmeemeemeemeepmeep!” It said.

“Yes, he is sitting in Tyrion's Spot this evening. If you would take Wednesday's spot next to Cersei this evening?” Jaime said, patiently.

“Meemeememmpeepmeep? Meemeemeepmeepmeep!”” Lancel replied.

“Why Lancel! You charmer!” Are you trying to lure me away from my husband?” Cersei crooned.

“Meemeemeempeememmeepmemmeep!” He replied.

“Well you can TRY, old boy, if you dare!” Jaime said, smiling.

The hand,Thing, popped onto the table, turned over and slapped its fingers against its palm, making a quiet clapping sound.

An old lady with dead roses in her stringy gray hair walked in with a tureen in her hands, followed by The Mountain who boomed out in his deep voice, “DINNER!”

He carried a huge gold tray with a massive domed lid that would have taken four normal sized men to carry, empty, and set it gently on the table. Then wearing white gloves, he placed a bowl from the long buffet before each diner.

“This is my famous ‘Worst Brat Soup with fingerlings”! She said. “I hope our guest likes it!” She said, ladling some into his bowl.

It was a dark broth with white, what he assumed were potatoes floating in it.

He took a spoonful and put it in his mouth. It had a hearty, meaty flavor he couldn't place and when he bit down on what he thought was a potato, he found it was a piece of meat with a small bone in the middle he bit into it and his teeth met bone.

“Delicious, as always, Granny! Your food is always fit for a queen!” Cersei said, admiringly. “What is the main course tonight?”

The Mountain lifted the heavy golden dome and the actual smell of roast meat wafted out. What appeared to be a suckling pig was dressed spine-up on the tray surrounded by a wreath of baked apples and vegetables.

“I call it “Trick Treat”! The old lady cackled. I just love this time of year! All the children back in school, going to and from, the leaves changing and all the harvest vegetables! Oh, and Arya's Surprise Pie for dessert!” She exclaimed.

A sense of horror was forming in the pit of Petyr's stomach, he found his mouth watering at the smell. He felt Jaime's metallic right hand land on his shoulder.

” It's Granny's cooking, old boy. Once you've tasted it, you can never go back!”

“Welcome to the Family!” Cersei said, smiling...


	9. Arya/ Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night is a time of action for a Death Dealer

Arya/Gendry

 

Underworld

  
  


The night felt full of promise. The cloud cover was not absolute, stars still peaked through in little windows. Gendry loved this time of year. The cooler weather always seemed to bring them out. And hunting them was what he did. He stood on the ledge, listening. They could be silent, but usually weren't. Their animal nature came out and they were careless and messy. There were almost always screams to give their location away. Sometimes the foolish or arrogant would howl and then Gendry would find them. 

 

He had been defending his Coven for almost nine centuries. A warrior in a war that had been waging long before he was turned. Long before he was born. The Covens had thinned the Clans. They were finally on the verge of extinction. Gendry had been on a personal crusade to destroy the creatures who had killed his family.

 

His musings were interrupted by the screams he had been listening for. His sharpened hearing that could hear a human heart beating from across a room dialed in on the origin of the screams. He stepped from the ledge and plunged six stories to the street, landing with no effort but a bent knee. He stood and walked to his car, a Jaguar XKE.He got in and drove in the direction of the screams.

 

As he sped through the near-deserted streets he heard a familiar howl and he smiled grimly. They couldn't resist when they were on the hunt. When heard another howl join it and a second and then a third, his smile faded. This was a Hunt and the prey was valuable enough that they would risk revealing themselves this way. He pressed a button on the steering wheel that dialed for him. “This is Gendry. Have my squad meet me at the train station. Fully loaded. This a Hunt.” He pressed the button to end the call and pulled into a side alley a few hundred meters from the Station, upwind.

 

He stepped from the car, sliding an earpiece into one ear and popped the trunk and reached inside. He tucked his backup pistols, two more Beretta 92FS'a into the holsters on his back and inserted extra clips in his holster rig and belt. He took his silver headed hammer and slid it into the loop on the back of his holster rig and extra throwing knives into slots in his coat. He checked the silver throwing stars in the slots of the lining of his coat and put a couple of silver fulminate grenades in the pockets of his coat. A human would be encumbered by the weight, but his blood was up and his brown eyes were bright blue and his fangs had partially descended. The battle fury was coming on and he relished the fight to come.

 

The howls had silenced which meant the pack had their target and each other in sight. They were close and he could smell their musk in the air. He leapt to the landing of a fire escape and made his way up to the roof quickly. He leapt from building to building until he reached the wide open space before the open ground of the train station. He let his eyes zoom in and see in the infrared. Even clothed in human appearance, the beasts could not hide that their immortal bodies burned hotter, while his were cooler than humans. It allowed him to see all the pieces on the board. There were twelve  that he could see that glowed a bright orange to him, and seven cooler bodies coming in from behind. The Hunt had become the hunted!, but Gendry was trying to figure out their target.

 

A short young woman, in her late teens or early twenties with a black coat and beret was walking away from the platform, two of the beasts were ten paces behind her and the crowd was thinning. They would make their move soon. He touched his ear and the chatter of his team filled his ear. “Overwatch? Do you have their target?”

 

“Affirmative. Black beret, moving South into parking lot. Two hostiles ten meters back and 10 more encircling.”, the voice of his sniper reported. 

 

“Confirmed. If they move before I get there, take the closest one first.” He said into the night,” if I get close, take the one behind.” There was a single buzz on the headset confirming his orders. “Take out the circle as quick and quietly as you can.” He told the rest of his team. And he jumped down into the shadows of the building he was on and headed towards the girl.

 

She was pretty, with full eyebrows and grey eyes that scanned the crowd. He could hear her heartbeat increase as she noticed him, but her furtive glances showed that she was aware of at least one of her pursuers. His eyes had faded to his regular grey and he retracted his fangs and smiled at her.

 

They made their move just as she made hers and Gendry made his. It all happened at once.The nearest Lycan reached for her as a round struck the heart of the second assailant as the the young girl sprinted toward him. The beast in front of him missed her by a hair's breadth then his eyes widened as he noticed Gendry, just as Gendry's silver dagger sunk into his heart and the girl slid between his legs and regained her feet in a heartbeat. 

 

_ Well she's limber!  _ He thought. She bolted, ducking her already small form and weaving through the thinning crowd. “Overwatch, keep an eye on their target.” He said and heard a buzz in confirmation as two beasts closed on him. Lumbering as they transformed. The screams began again as people began to notice the fallen and the sight of the transforming Lycan fueled their fear. A human police officer opened fire on one of the creatures, emptying his clip into the creature to nearly no effect. It snarled and rushed the poor officer, nearly getting close enough to tear out the poor man's throat before a burst from Gendry's Beretta riddled the creature with silver bullets. Gendry barely turned to the second, firing a burst from the 92FS in his left hand as it leapt. It landed in a heap at his feet and he fired a quick 3 round burst into its skull to be sure. 

 

He saw three break away from the combat with his assault team, “Overwatch, where is the girl?” Gendry asked his sniper.

 

“She circled back through the crowd to the platform.” He heard him reply, “One of them still has her scent. I didn't have a clean shot, sorry.”

 

“Worry about it later. Take out the others, if practical. We are no longer low profile.” He said accelerating to inhuman speed and moving thru the crowd. Nothing but a blur and a gust of wind.

 

When he found the girl, she was running down the tracks of a service spur towards an engine and two private cars. Her pursuer was in no hurry, now that she was alone.  Gendry could smell the beast and his heartbeat was fast, even for a Lycan. He holstered the Beretta in his right hand and drew his silver hammer from his back harness, one of the Beretta’s in his left. The beast’s ears were sharp, it turned to face him and began to transform again. The sounds of popping vertebrae and stretching tendon and ligament could be heard as he went from being a six-foot tall man into an 7 foot tall horror. It growled, low in its throat and Gendy smiled, exposing his fangs. 

 

The lycan charged, pawing up gravel as it bent to run on all fours. Gendy widened his stance and turned his feet, to make sure he had solid footing, and waited. The beast leapt the final twenty feet, and Gendry turned at the last moment to bring his hammer down on the beast’s head as its momentum drove it past him. It collapsed ten feet away in a heap, with barely a yelp. Gendry went to check the kill, but there was no need, the beast’s skull had been caved in by the blow and his brains were flowing out. Just to be sure, Gendry pressed the barrel of his gun against the lycan’s chest and fired three silver bullets into its heart.

 

By the time he caught up with the girl, she was climbing into one of the train cars. Gendry frowned, but followed. As he climbed into the train, he could see her, taking off her beret and shaking out her barely shoulder-length hair. She was standing in what appeared to a First Class Luxury Lounge Car. Gendry could sense no one else aboard. He stepped inside.

 

She turned and smiled. “Took you long enough! Did I give you too many playmates this time, Death Dealer?”

 

“You took quite the risk, Arya. They nearly had you this time.” Gendry said, setting his hammer down and holstering his gun.

 

“They were right where I wanted them to be, Gendry. As were you. You should know me better than that by now!” Arya said, quietly.

 

“So what was the point, then?” Gendry asked. “If you had everything under control?”

 

“Why, the fun, my dear!” Arya said, smiling. “The look on your face, the smell of their fear as the trappers became the trapped, it was DELICIOUS!” she said, licking her lips. “You really must learn to lighten up, my darling.

 

“Arya, you could have been killed! Both our kinds have been hunting you for months, years!” Gendry said, angrily. For her to make light of what just happened…

 

“Oh Gendry! You worry too much! And they are not ‘our kinds’, there are only the two of us. The Old Blood runs strong in our veins, and We have made something new! We are more than just the joining of the two blood lines. We are free! We can choose our form and whether to feed and we can walk in sunlight without fear.” she said, raising her face and turning, as if taking in the entire world. “You were lied to for nine centuries, Death Dealer! I have discovered the truth. Your coven are Lannister’s and you are a Baratheon. Your family was not murdered by Lycans, it was vampires who killed your kin.”

 

Gendry felt like someone had driven a stake thru his heart! “That can’t be true! I would have known!” He said, foundering.

 

“Tywin made it up.” She said, quietly. “I found Tyrion. He showed me the archive. Come, taste and see!” she said, taking a Valyrian Steel dagger from her hidden sheath and cut her wrist. The blood began to pool and Gendry could smell it. They had shared blood and more for months, secretly.

 

He stepped forward and took her wrist into his mouth. The rush of the taste of blood was washed away in the rush of memories. Blurs of motion, accented by moments of clarity, until…

_ The dwarf sat in what appeared to be a wine cellar. Ancient stone carved to give the casks a constant cool temperature. His scarred face with an ironic smile creasing it. “My father did this many times. He needed allies in the war and he must have seen potential in the young bastard Stag. Did you know another term for them is Hart’s? Wolves and Hart’s aligned against him. My brother and sister stirring the pot. I thought I killed the son of a bitch in that privvy, but all I did was let him go incognito. Working from the shadows, once he recovered. Had I Known, the bolt would have gone into his heart, not his guts! So read, my young Wolf. ‘The one who can wear many faces.’ Find the truth, tell their Death Dealer he’s been fighting for the wrong side this whole time! Get my revenge for me!” And he handed her the ancient tome. _

 

Gendry slipped from the memory and released Arya’s wrist. She stared at it for a moment and it began to close. Sealing like it had never been. She reached across the bar’s counter on tiptoes and retrieved the book. He opened it to the marked page and began to read what really happened. How “his” Coven had driven the Lycan clan to his village outside the Great City and driven them mad with fear. When they lashed out like trapped animals against the villagers, Tywin had ordered his Death Dealers to close for the kill. How his family was to be slaughtered, mostly by Death Dealers, but that Gendry was to be left alive, for Tywin to “rescue” and adopt. He had arranged the deaths of all the Baratheon’s, save Gendry, and he wasn’t ready to make the Line extinct, if he could use it instead. 

 

“Look for yourself, Gendry. Your whole Second Life has been a lie. It is time for you to build a new one!” she said , with tears in her eyes. “I know how much this will hurt you, but you deserved to know!”

 

“But...If you are a Wolf, how could you let me slaughter your kind?” Gendry asked, confused.

 

“They are not my kind, Gendry. The Starks were Wargs, not werewolves. The curse that took my brother Robb is not of our bloodline. I was bitten, but I was a Faceless long before that. I can choose who I am.” She said. “That is why they hunt me.”

 

“Why they will hunt us both, if they ever figure out what you have made me.” He said, staring into her eyes.

 

“Not if we start hunting them!” Arya said, almost whisper.

 

Gendry bent to kiss her, the taste of her blood still filling his mouth and nose with her scent. Their tongues explored each other as she worked at the fastenings of his harness, his hands cupped her head. She pushed his harness and overcoat off his shoulders and they fell to the floor with a thud. 

 

She sheathed her dagger she had dropped as he kissed and undid her own holsters. She pulled off her coat and harness. Underneath, she wore a plaid mini in shades of grey and black mock turtleneck sweater. Gendry pulled his own sweater over his head, revealing his well muscled chest. Arya ran her fingers across it as he lifted her onto the bar. He unzipped his boots as she kicked off hers, turning they were kissing again.

 

“Oh Gendry! Make love to me!” She said, spreading her legs on the bar. Gendry stepped forward and slid her skirt up her thighs. He pulled her to the edge of the bar and leaned down to kiss her there. She moaned with pleasure. He was quite adept with his tongue and soon her hips were bucking and she laid her head back to dangle off the back of the bar as he went down on her! 

“Oh yes, Gendry! Don't stop!” She cried out, but he had no intention of stopping. He lapped at her and explored her with his tongue until she begged him to take her, her nails raking deep furrows in his scalp. 

When she orgasmed and her spasms lost all sense of control, he dropped his trousers and entered her. This brought her to even greater heights of pleasure as he rammed into her again and again. 

He couldn't resist and let his fangs drop as he licked and kissed her neck, biting into her carotid artery. The taste of her blood inflamed him and he drew on her as she orgasmed again. 

She roared and her own fangs sunk into his throat as she drank from him. The shared memories and emotions were more intense than anything either of them had dared let them experience before and he cried out as she howled as he spilled his seed into her.

 

They lay together on the floor. Her coat beneath them and his covering their nude forms. They had made love all night and now they awaited the dawn. 

 

“It has been 900 years since I have seen the sunrise, Arya.” He said dreamily, “I never dared try it at the Coven House, since you made me a Daywalker.” 

 

“Then we will watch it together.” Arya said, snuggling into his arm.

 

They looked to the East and the sky lightened, gradually. Then the first glowing crescent appeared over the distant horizon. Gendry winced at the sight. Expecting the flaming annihilation of his flesh that had been the cost of his Curse for 900 years, but all he felt was warmth on his skin. 

 

A new day. A New Beginning...


	10. Tyrion/Shae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion and Shae attempt to solve some gruesome murders in Flea Bottom

## Tyrion/Shae

## From Hell

 

There had been murders. Gruesome ones.

 

At first, they had been limited to Flea Bottom, and most went unreported. Death in Flea Bottom was as common as birth among the poor there. Even whores found with their throats cut and their bellies opened had not garnered much interest among its inhabitants. But then they started happening along the Street of Silks, and people started to take notice. Janos Slynt and the City Watch were baffled. When one of the women from Ros’ was found, her body vivified, her organs taken or burned and some coins and objects left in deliberate organization, Tyrion was forced to take notice. He knew the women of Ros’ well and when he first brought Shae to King’s landing, he had used it as a ruse to see her. Now, one of her girls was dead, and Tyrion needed to find the one responsible.

The Street of Silks was visited by the rich and powerful and they were worried, for not only their favorite playmates but their own tender hides, and so The Hand of King Joffrey would oversee the investigation himself, and no one thought twice about it.

He went to the murder site, a narrow alley near the Dragon Pit. It had been cordoned off by the Gold Cloaks, some of whom nodded to him grimly as he passed under the Red rope they used to block off the street. He stepped around the corner into a horrific scene. Her throat was severed by two cuts, and the lower part of the abdomen was partly ripped open by a deep, jagged wound. Several other incisions on the abdomen appeared to be caused by the same knife. Tyrion bit back his rising gorge with difficulty and tried to look at it critically.

Maester Pycelle had preceded him to the scene and was having an apprentice taking notes.

“Maester, what do you deduce about what happened?” Tyrion asked the old man.

“Well, the lack of bleeding from the abdominal wounds would indicate that the injuries were inflicted after the victim was already dead, probably from the throat wounds. The knife appears to have been extremely sharp. Perhaps a skinning knife? The depth of the wounds appears to indicate the weapon was more than four inches in length,” He reported coldly. Tyrion noted the blood on his index and long fingers. “ I will be able to tell you more once I get her back to the Red Keep and can examine her more thoroughly.

“So he butchered her after she was already dead?” Tyrion asked, incredulously.

“If the assailant was indeed a man, yes.” Pycelle replied. “Most killings using knives are committed by men, but women have been known to resort to a knife. 

“So I have heard,” Tyrion murmured. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“To commit such violation, post-mortem, seems to indicate a great deal of rage. The killer didn’t just want to kill her. They wanted to violate her.” Pycelle responded.

“Thank you, Pycelle. Keep me informed of any findings you obtain. I will be overseeing this investigation myself.” Tyrion said, looking the old man in the eye.

“As you wish, Lord Hand.” Pycelle said solemnly, and his next words held real emotion for the first time, “I knew this woman. I, uh, was introduced to her once on a medical issue…” 

“A medical issue, Grand Maester? You met a whore on the Street of Silks about a ‘medical issue’?” Tyrion asked, intrigued.

“It is not important! Suffice it to say, it was important to someone important.” Pycelle said abruptly, shutting down the conversation. “Good day, My Lord Hand, i must see to the preparations to have the body returned to the Red Keep.” And he turned and walked away. 

Tyrion watched him, his mind trying to piece together his reactions. “I think i need to talk to Ros.” He said to himself, and walked by to his palanquin. “Ros’ on the Street of Silks” he told the lead bearer. He stepped inside and was lifted and carried the several blocks to the Pillow House known as Ros’.

The brothel, a house two stories tall with a stone ground floor and a timber upper floor. A round turret rose from one corner of the structure. Many of the windows appear to be leaded glass. Over the door swung an ornate lamp, a globe of gilded metal and scarlet glass.

Tyrion stepped out of his palanquin and turned to his bearers. “I will be interviewing the Mistress of the House, probably for some time. Why don’t you gentlemen find something better to do with your time than all of you standing in the street? All I ask is that you take turns so that someone stays behind to make sure no one walks off with my palanquin!” Tyrion said, tossing his lead bearer a bag of coins. 

As Tyrion walked inside, he noted the air smelled of some exotic spice and the floor beneath displayed a mosaic of two women entwined in love. Tyrion smiled at the thought of his previous visits, but the weeping of women drew the smile from his face. The common room was behind an ornate Myrish screen that had been carved with flowers and fancies and dreaming maidens. When he walked around it into the common room he saw an old man playing a mournful air on his pipes. There was a cushioned alcove and a leaded coloured glass window where sunlight poured through. Ros was sitting there, consoling several of her girls. The air was all at odds with his previous visits, but Tyrion could see why. Obviously, the girl had been well liked here.

Tyrion walked up reluctantly and waited to be noticed. Ros looked up at his approach and frowned. “What do you want, Lord Hand?” she said angrily, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Can you not see we are grieving?” 

Tyrion ducked his head for a moment and then met her gaze. “I do apologize for interrupting, I can appreciate your loss, believe me, but I am here trying to discover who did this terrible thing!” He said quietly. 

“How does the death of a whore concern the Hand of the King? Even a Hand such as you, My Lord?” she said, still resentful of his interruption.

“For many reasons.“ Tyrion said, patiently “But none I am willing to discuss in the Common Room. If we could go someplace more private, Ros? Please?” 

“Very well.” She said, disentangling herself from the girls and stood.  He long, legs displayed prominently. Tyrion fought to not be distracted. “Follow me.” And she walked down the hall up the stairs to the Lower Turret Room. Her Inner Sanctum.

After she had let him in and closed the door, she went to sit behind a large wooden desk, with ornately carved figures of strange birds and frolicking fish with their tail the wrong way. In the center of the front panel were a man and a woman copulating enthusiastically. Tyrion noted the bright silks of the huge bed in the corner, but took the seat offered to him by her outstretched hand.

“Might I trouble you for some wine?” he said, cautiously, “It has been a most disturbing morning.”

She poured them red wine from a carafe on her desk and passed him a goblet. “Now tell me what you wish to know? I will do anything in my power to make the one who killed poor Bella pay!” She said, fiercely.

“Was that her name?” Tyrion asked. “The Gold Cloaks didn’t seem to know her name.”

“That is strange, since Commander Slynt has been a client of hers off and on!” Ros said, confused. “She has many ‘clients of note’ in the City. Is that why you are here, My Lord Hand? When the girls in Flea Bottom started showing up murdered, there was nary a peep from the Red Keep, but one of their playthings gets killed and now it is ‘The Business of The Hand’?” She concluded angrily.

“I was not aware of the previous murders, Ros! And you know how I feel about whores! I like them far better than most of my ‘peers’, as you should know well!” Tyrion replied.

“You are right, My Lord Hand, please forgive me my outburst! It is only so shocking! And the way it was done!” Ros cut off abruptly.

“What do YOU know of how it was done? “ Tyrion asked, curious. “It was not reported by anyone here!”

Ros looked down. “I found her this morning on my way to Shae’s manse.”

“Shae’s Manse? What were you doing, going to Shae’s Manse in the open?” he said, worriedly. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, my lord, I simply do not like the smell of fresh horseshit on my clothing and the secret passage exits at that stable! You may like it, but I do not!” Ros said hotly. “It was just after dawn and there was no one else on the street! Poor Bella was cold when I found her.” She said, her eyes filling with tears. “What monster would do such a thing? And to such a beauty as Bella?” 

“I do not know yet, Ros. Sadly, I know many monsters, any of which are quite capable of doing what was done to her, and worse!” He said, thinking. “I think I need to see Shae.” he said, slipping off the chair and standing. “Please remain here, so no one questions where I have been?” He asked her politely. Tossing a small purse that hit heavily onto her desk.

“I will do as you ask, but do not be gone all day, my girls need me.” She said, taking the purse. “What do I tell anyone who comes looking for you?” Tell them I am on the privy, shitfaced. They will believe it!” Tyrion said, ironically.

Stepping up to the wardrobe and opening the secret passage in its back. He took the spiral stair down to the earthen tunnel and sprinted as fast as his stunted legs could carry him the three blocks to the ladder leading up to the stable. He grimaced as his short limbs protest the climb after his run, but Tyrion was in a hurry, fear for Shae fueling him past the pain. He climbed the ladder and opened the trap door carefully. The stable boy was mucking out a stall as Tyrion stepped out and never saw him. He walked the last two blocks to the Manse, quickly and unlocking a postern gate with a key he kept around his neck.

Shae was in the garden, cutting flowers, when he found her. She smiled at his approach and set the flowers down. She knelt as he rushed towards her and took him in her arms. “Why are you here, My Lion?” she said, confused, looking into his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Just be quiet and let me hold you for a moment, would you?” He said burying his face in her chest. “Gods you smell good!” He mumbled between her breasts.

She ran her fingers through his hair and mumbled sweet nothings, “There, there, My Lion! It is alright! I am here!” As she she stroked his back.

“I’m afraid there is bad news, my sweet Shae.” Tyrion said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “The has been a rather ghastly murder not six blocks from here, I’m afraid.” He said quickly. “The girl was one of Ros’, Bella, by name.”

Shae pushed him back to look him in the face, “The pretty brunette? The tall one with the long legs?” She asked him, staring into his haunted eyes, “Tell me! Tell me everything!”

“Are you sure you want to hear?” Tyrion asked, cautiously. “The details don’t matter!” 

“They matter to me, Little Lion!” She said, hotly. “Someone has killed someone I liked! Now tell me!”

Tyrion sighed, “Very well. She was found in an alley between Ros’ and here. She had her throat cut and then he did other things to her…”

“What kinds of things?” She said, intensely, “Tell me every detail!”

“The killer disemboweled her…” Tyrion continued reluctantly.

 "Were her organs removed?” Shae interrupted him. “Were they burned?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Maester Pycelle has not given me a report on that, yet.” Tyrion said, “But from what i could see, and remember seeing before on the battlefield, there did appear to be pieces missing!” he concluded thoughtfully, “Why?”

“It is a thing I have heard done. In Essos.” she replied, grimly. “It is a practice of the Red Priests in the Old Days. Sacrifices to R’hllor, to their fire god.”

“The Red Priests? Thoros of Myr is a Red Priest! But he is a drunk and a charlatan! Besides, as far as anyone knows, he is still out hunting The Mountain. Are you sure?” Tyrion asked, disbelieving

“I know it was done, by them, in the Old Country. To give them powers.” Shae said, quietly. 

“Powers?” Tyrion asked, incredulous, “Like his ‘flaming sword’? A simple trick, an Alchemist explained how that trick is done to me years ago!”

“Do not mock me, Little Lion! I have seen things that would make you quake in fear!” Shae said hotly. 

“Forgive me, my sweet, but you have to see it seems incredible! There is no more magic in the world! If there ever was! It died with the dragons and the Targaryens!” Tyrion said quietly, trying to get her to see reason.

“But you told me yourself, there is a Targaryen girl in Essos and that it is said she has Dragon eggs? What if magic has only been sleeping?” she said, calmly. “If I am right, there will be more murders. Worse than this!”

“No, I said she _claimed_ she had dragon eggs. I don’t actually believe in that nonsense. Magic isn’t real. The Red Priests draw in the foolish with charlatan’s tricks and sleight of hand!” Tyrion said, patiently. 

“If you do not believe me, then go!” Shae said, hotly. “But when the bodies start piling up, you shall see!”and she pulled away from him and walked into the house, the door slamming shut and the bolt sliding home, was his answer to whether their discussion was over.

He returned to Ros’ and gathered his bearers. Their stupid grins making him smile. Well at least someone enjoyed their day!” He said to himself as the took him back to the Red Keep. 

His report from Pycelle did nothing to allay his concerns. The heart and liver and kidneys had been removed from the body, by someone who knew how, according to Pycelle. Tyrion put out a word to the Gold Cloaks to have a watch put on any Red Priests in the city, and that word be sent to him immediately, if Sir Thoros of Myr was heard from.

He researched the previous murders from Flea Bottom. One woman had been stabbed repeatedly and the other had claimed before her death to have been assaulted by two men and an older boy, all well dressed. She had died from infection from a blunt object being inserted inside her it ruptured her insides.

 This gave Tyrion more cause for concern. A crazed maniac in Flea Bottom cutting up whores was one thing. A young noble and his lackeys assaulting commoners was another. The war brought enough civil unrest and while some nobles thought they could do what they liked to the commons, the city was already on edge and nobles were outnumbered fifty-to-one in the city. A riot could become a massacre.

 

Eight days later the next body was found.

 

_The blade flashed twice, severing the arteries in the neck. Blood fountained as her hands leaped to her throat. The figure watched her struggle stop the flow, but it was useless. Her eyes flashed back and forth seeking escape as her life flowed down her neck into her low cut dress and fountained on the wall behind her. After a few frantic moments, she collapsed. The killer knelt beside her and used his knife to open her dress, then he stabbed deeply, low into her abdomen, just above her sex and tore upwards. Violently. Making a ragged gash. His bloody hands pulled her open to a sound like tearing fabric. The figure breathed heavily, panting as it reached inside to take out the woman’s womb. The bloody blade sliced down, removing it with practiced cuts._

 

“Her body was found just after dawn, my Lord Hand.” Bronn reported.

He had put him in charge of a team of men assembled, all with stern stomachs and closed lips, in case any other bodies showed up as Shae had predicted. They were mounted and set to report to anything like what had happened and take charge until he could arrive. Tyrion had hoped it was a waste of time. But here he was at yet another scene. Driven by coach, since a palanquin would take too long. The body had been found on the back porch of a house at the edge of Flea Bottom, near the Street of Sisters. Too close for comfort to the previous murder. 

“Was anything removed?” Tyrion asked, in an off-hand way.

“Funny you should say that, m’lord. The Maester told me to tell you ‘her uterus is gone’ he said, checking his notes. “We didn’t find it, tho.”

“I didn’t know you could read, Bronn” Tyrion said, astonished.

“Oh yeah, I learned early that a merc who can’t read his own contract will be buggered by those who can!” He said, matter of factly.

“Excellent! Well this is a problem. I think I am going to have to take this to the Privy Council!”

“Why? They don’t seem the types to give two shits for a couple of dead whores?” Bronn asked.

“No, they aren’t, but if this happens again, we may have riots in the streets, and they are people concerned with not being torn to pieces by an angry mob. I happen to be one, myself!” Tyron replied, glibly.

“Suit y’self, just don’t complain when I tell you ‘I told ye so!’ “ Bronn said grinning.

 

The Privy Council had gone badly. Maester Pycelle had dismissed the idea that the incidents were necessarily related. Cersei had been dismissive, Joffrey openly hostile, and Baelish had oozed evasion and misdirection. Which had seemed a bit strange to Tyrion. Littlefinger made a great deal of money off his brothels. If someone was killing whores, it seemed in his interests to find them quickly. All had given him opposition, except Varys.

The Master of Secrets was conspicuously silent during the Council meeting and Tyrion could only see one reason for that. Varys knew something, but he didn’t wish to reveal what he knew in the Privy Council. Which could only mean it involved someone ON the Council. Or multiple someones. There several members that Tyrion could see capable of these murders. If not by their own hands, he could see them ordering it done. To the last detail. 

He sought Varys out, hours later, finding him in his chambers. He was shown in by a silent servant. Rumor had it Varys took him because his tongue had been torn out years before. Others said he had the deed done himself, but Tyrion doubted it.

“Ah, Lord Tyrion, come in! Come in!” Varys said, reading a small slip of paper.”I was expecting you!”

“I was hoping we could speak. In confidence?” Tyrion asked, cautiously. “About the murders? Is that a whisper from one of your ‘little birds’, Lord Varys?” 

Varys smiled and held the slip to a candle flame. “In confidence? Always. And no, it was not from my little birds. If they could read and write, I should rule the world by now.” Varys said, smiling his simpering smile. “But about the murders, I have heard much. And little. But from those small things I have many ideas. Would you like to hear them, Lord Hand?”

“I should like some wine, if you please. This sounds as if it will be thirsty listening.” Tyrion said, licking his lips, “ ‘Much and little’, you say?”

 Varys took a bottle of wine from the table and poured two goblets. Drinking from his immediately, before handing the second to Tyrion. Tyrion glanced into the cup and then took a sip. It was very good wine. “What ideas have you come up with, Lord Varys?”

Varys took another sip and began. “The whispers are flying, that the one responsible for the killings is noble. Some of the eyewitness reports speak of a young man, or an older man, some say he is fair and wears shabby clothes, others say he is darker haired and dresses well. Some say it is someone powerful using the poor girls for his sick fantasies, and others think there is something darker afoot. That the killings are ritual, that they are leading to something. I despise magic and all those who pursue it, Lord Hand. If this is something dark, then it is dark indeed and needs to be stopped.”

Tyrion listened closely. Varys was indeed saying much, and little. “But tell me what you think, Varys. What ideas have you had.”

“I think these are dangerous times to be in King’s Landing. Especially if you are on the wrong side of the King. Or the Queen Mother?” Varys said over his cup of wine. “There is a monster loose in Flea Bottom. But there are monsters everywhere these days. And there are dynastic implications to consider. Were you aware of the late King’s bastard children?” 

“I have heard the rumors, of course, and I heard what my sister did to the babes he fathered at Casterly Rock after my father’s tourney.” Tyrion said, taking a long pull of his wine. “Twin girls and barely more than infants, I believe. It really was foolish of him to father them in my Father’s keep.” 

“They are not the only bastards of Robert Baratheon. There are eight that I know of, for sure. Several more may be scattered among the whores of Flea Bottom. Lord Robert was quite busy the week before his coronation and marriage to your sister. And the Royal Progress afterwards, gave him ample opportunity to plant his seeds in each of the Seven Kingdoms. Word has come to me, that your sister, the Queen, wants these embarrassments ‘removed’.” Varys said, pausing long enough to pour them both more wine. “Do you know who the first girl who you looked into the murder of was?”

“I believe her name was Bella... She worked in Ros’ House on the Street of Silks, I believe. “ Tyrion said, taking a long sip of his wine. “Maester Pycelle said he saw her once, for ‘medical issues for someone important’ was how he put it.” 

“Quite so.” Varys said, putting his goblet down and interlocking his fingers on the table. “Then it would not surprise you to know that she was one of the King’s bastards? Or that Littlefinger had found out and was renting her to nobles with a desire to ‘fuck a princess’?” Varys said, his brow arching. “Were you also aware a young child, one ‘Barra’ by name was also killed this past week? Her mother carved open on a back porch last night? She had also been seen by Maester Pycelle before the birth. And Jon Arryn, after.”

“Are you saying my sister is behind the murders, Lord Varys?” Tyrion sounded shocked, but deep down he knew she was capable. Of this and far worse!

“No, my Lord Hand. What I said was, were you aware?” Varys said, carefully. “There are also disturbing whispers about the King. The current one, your nephew. They say you sent him whores, to remove his virginity.” Varys continued. “And that he did terrible things to them. Neither was seen again,”

“Now you accuse Joffrey, Lord Varys? Are you mad?” Tyrion said, growing concerned. Here, he was even less convinced of his indignation, but that doubt made him even more defensive of his family. “You go too far!”

“I accuse no one, My Lord Hand!” Varys said, quickly. “I merely report on whispers!”

“Joffrey is a malignant little shit, but I find it hard to imagine him capable of what was done to these women!” Tyrion said, standing and downing his wine. He walked over and poured himself another goblet.

“Perhaps,” Varys said, “but if he was growing more…’exotic’ in his entertainments? Men tend to grow to need more and more to get excited, they say. For that, I can only thank the man who cut me, for relieving me of that distraction.”

Tyrion looked down into his wine. “It is true that one finds that more and more is needed to get the same effect from some things, Varys. To that I can attest from personal experience. But to kill and violate as was done? And how could my nephew get away with it? He is surrounded by Kingsguard and your ‘little birds’ are always watching. Not to mention everyone else’s spies in King’s Landing…”

“There are ways out of the Keep, my Lord Hand, passages that lead to Flea Bottom and the Harbor.” Varys said, “I have seen them, Walked them myself. They are most useful for listening to whispers…and there are whispers that one of the first murders in Flea Bottom was not done alone, but by one or two older men and a teen. The victim had time to report it before she died, though her description was not detailed.”

“Now you are saying that Knights of the Kingsguard are helping him commit theses atrocities? Really Varys.” Tyrion said, doubtful. 

“If the Kingsguard still had men like Sir Barristan, no. But the men who serve now are of a different sort.” Varys pointed out, carefully. “Do you really think they would say ‘no’, given what they have done to Lady Sansa?”

Tyrion thought of what had been done to the young Lady Stark and cringed. He could remember the look on Joffrey’s face as he ordered her beaten. And Sir Meryn Trant’s face as he was about to commence doing it...It was possible. He had to admit it.

 

_He watched her bathing through the peephole. He stared at her perfect white skin, the long legs and the little bush of red hair above the pink lips just peeking out beneath. His mind had burned. Her bruises had faded. Perhaps it was time for another round with Sir Meryn. Her flesh was so soft and perfect. He longed to destroy that perfection… She had seen him weeping after her sister beat him. He would beat the smirks off of all of them before he was done. She was forbidden, for the moment, but her time would come. He wanted to touch himself, but the sore just made him angry. The King should not get sores THERE! But he had one. And it as all THEIR fault. He would make them all pay. And he would remove the insults to his mother. Sir Meryn could have the boys, but the pleasure of removing the girls was all His! He imagined the blade crossing that long white neck, what he would do to her once she was dead. He would show the world he was not to be trifled with. He was a Lion, like his mother. Soon...it would have to be soon. Perhaps this Lady Margaery would suffice, now that her husband, his traitorous uncle, was dead and his mother would relent. Then he could do what he wanted to the red-haired bitch._

 

A month later, they found two in one night.

 

The watch found the first body just an hour after midnight. The cause of death was one clear-cut incision which severed the main artery on the left side of the neck, but there was no mutilation of the body, but some had seen a figure fleeing the scene. So Bronn assumed the killer had been interrupted. The reports were confusing. Some said they had seen her with a man who was fair and shabbily dressed and others said dark haired and well dressed.

“What do you make of it, My Lord Hand?” Bronn asked a weary Tyrion. He had been pulled out of his bed after too much wine and Shae had nearly been found with him.

“It appears he was interrupted, alright.” Tyrion said, pointing to her wound, the blood matting her dark hair. Her grey eyes staring at nothing. “The slash is very similar to the first two murders, but he didn’t have time to finish his work.”

Just then there were distant shouts and the Watch Bell rang. “By all the gods! What now?” Tyrion said, flustered.

“I dunno,” said Bronn. “Shall I go find out then?”

“I didn’t name you Commander of the Gold Cloaks for you to sit here with me!” Tyrion said pointedly.

Bronn tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Good point.” he said and he mounted his horse and rode off. Tyrion was examining the place where the witnesses agreed the assailant had run off, when Bronn returned from that same direction.

“There’s been another murder, My Lord.” Bronn said grimly. “He wasn’t interrupted this time, I’m afraid.” He said, trying to control his horse.

Tyrion looked up at him. “It’s been barely an hour!” He hated looking up at mounted men. He had considered making horses illegal even to the nobles and the Watch in King’s Landing, but Varys had dissuaded him. “Fetch my coach!” Tyrion had said, frustrated and moved towards where it had been parked. 

He climbed inside. And bounced around on the seat as he was driven the mile and a half to the next crime scene. King’s Landing had been deliberately designed against such means of transport. He climbed gingerly climbed from the coach and approached the scene. The Watch had set up many lanterns and torches, so the scene was well-lit, but this had been a darkened yard of a square before they came.

Her throat was severed and the abdomen was ripped open by a long, deep, jagged wound. “The left kidney and the major part of the uterus had been removed.” Bronn said, as he walked up. “ A local man named Josef Lawend had passed through the square with two friends shortly before the murder, and he described seeing a fair-haired man of shabby appearance with a woman who may have been Edda. That’s her name. I guess she is well known in these parts. They say she is named for the Old King’s best friend, she claimed to be a bastard of the King’s.”

“Let’s keep that quiet, if we can, shall we?” Tyrion said, shushing him. A figure in dark clothing was waving, trying to get his attention. It was Shae! “Trying getting as much from the witnesses as we can.”

He walked across the yard to her. She was dressed in a heavy hooded cloak that covered his in darkness except for her pale face. “Do you believe me now, My Lion?” She asked.

“Shae! What are you doing here! You must get away! What if you are spotted?” Tyrion said, glancing around. No one seemed to take any special notice of him at the moment, however.

“Perhaps you should listen to her, My Lord.” A voice came out of the darkness, it was Varys, hiding in the shadows in a cloak just like Shae’s. There is something you should see…”

“What is this Lord Spider?” Tyrion said, suspicious. “Some new trickery? And why involve Shae? Are you Trying to get her killed?” 

“On the contrary, My Lord, I was seeking the lady’s advice.” Varys said, frankly. “As I have said, I do not trust those who do magic, and Shae has more experience with those who practice it than I, if not more intimately.” We heard the commotion during our meeting and came here to see what had happened. We had ducked down this alley, so as not to be seen, when we came upon this!” And he pulled a small lantern from under his cloak and held it up to shine on the wall.

There was a bloody rag on the ground beneath it and written on the walls was a Graffito. It said:

 

**_THE HARTS ARE THE MEN WHO WILL NOT BE BURNED FOR NOTHING_ **

 

Tyrion stared at the gruesome message. “What do you think it means?” He asked Varys without turning.

“I couldn’t say, My Lord, but it does seem to be a message from our killer.” Varys replied, standing next to him and raising the lantern high.

“My Lion,”Shae spoke up. “In the lands of my people, a ‘hart’ is another name for a stag… Is your Nephew not a Baratheon? A Hart, if you will?”

“What are you saying?” Tyrion turned to her.

“My Lion, the Red Priests burn those they see as unclean, or needing redemption. Only through R’hllor’s flames can they be redeemed,” Shae said intently. “Or perhaps the killer cannot spell, and he misspelled ‘Heart’? Is not the Burning Hart the sigil of Stannis Baratheon? He who is responsible for his brother’s death? Some say by magical means?”

Tyrion’s head began to throb.

 

_The blade flashed and the blood fountained. He watched the life leave her eyes. He ripped open her dress and then his knife ripped open her belly. He spread her wide, so he could see deep within her. His Watcher kept a sharp eye out this time. There would be no interruptions. He cut out her kidney and wrapped it on a kerchief, then placed it in the box. Then he moved to her womb, it was large and distended, like the other one, she had borne children, possibly twins. He placed it in its box for later._

_Thy would all pay! His knife slashed into the pretty face, obliterating all resemblance to his father._

 

Tyrion told Varys to return Shae to her manse, as quickly as he could. “I cannot do my job while I am worried about you!” He told her honestly.

He reported his findings to Bronn and several men came over. Bronn wrote down the message. And then had it washed away. So as not to stir up the mob.

“Ye don’t want them getting ahold of that, My Lord. Not with Stannis on the move.”

“No, I suppose we don’t” Tyrion replied, thinking. If this really was Joffrey’s doing, then what was he to do? He couldn’t very well accuse the King without absolute proof, and even then, Cersei would never allow him to face Justice. They had suffered thru a Mad King before. It seemed they would be forced to, again.

 

He found Maester Pycelle in his new chambers in the Black Cells. “Ah, Pycelle, I have some questions only you can answer.” Tyrion said as he entered, followed by two of his mercenary Clansmen. _Threats are easier with a couple of mad Hill-men there, ready to carry them out._

“What can I, for you, My Lord Hand.” The old man said, weakly. His time in the Black cells hard not treated him well. He had aged and with nothing left but his ragged stubble of beard, he looked wan and tired.

“As I said, you can answer some questions. Don’t worry they can’t be any worse for you, than the ones you’ve already told me, my traitorous old friend.” Tyrion said grimly.

“Why did you visit the woman named Bella and the woman named Bobbie, Pycelle?” Tyrion asked, leaning down by the old man’s face.

“Who, my Lord?” Pycelle said feebly, but his eyes darted, looking for exits.

“The women you visited in Flea Bottom and the Street of Silks, Pycelle. King Robert’s bastards…” Tyrion replied angrily

“I did not learn their names, my Lord! I did not want to know!” Pycelle said, raising his hand as if to defend from a blow. “ I was sent to treat them for a disease… it is called Syphilis, my Lord. One had contracted it from someone else, but the girl on the Street of Silks...she got it from the Prince. I think the first girl gave it to him, and he, in turn, gave it to the other girl!”

“You are saying Prince Joffrey has syphilis?” Tyrion asked incredulous.

 “He has a chancre upon his member even now!” Pycelle said weakly. “He may have developed a rash by now. I have been down here...i do not know. Untreated, it will lead to madness, blindness, even death.”

Tyrion was stunned. His nephew… it all became clear now. Cersei’s desire for revenge, her incest with Jaime, Joffrey’s obsession with his mother and his Lannister heritage…. He had probably saved Myrcella from a fate worse than death, by sending her to Dorne. And Joffrey… seeking out his half-sisters… and then finding out he had gotten a disease from one of them. He was as bent on revenge as his mother, but for different reasons.

“The disease, Pycelle, can it be cured?” Tyrion asked quickly.

“Eh? Cured? No, my Lord, there is no known cure, but the symptoms can be managed… if treated regularly.” Pycelle replied.

“I see. Thank you for the candor.” Tyrion said and he and his guards left the chamber, taking the light with them.

 

A month later, Stannis was reported approaching King’s Landing when the last murder occurred.

 

It was Ros.

 

The body was lying naked in the middle of the bed, her body inclined to the left side. Her head was turned on her left cheek. The left forearm lying across her stomach. The right  elbow was bent, the palm up with the fingers clenched. The legs were wide apart, the left thigh at right angles. The flesh of her abdomen and thighs was removed and her abdominal cavity emptied. The breasts were cut off, the arms mutilated by several jagged wounds and the face hacked beyond recognition. Her face was gashed in all directions, the nose, cheeks, eyebrows, and ears having been partly removed. Her neck was severed down to the bone. The organs were found in various parts of the chamber: the womb and kidneys with one breast under her head, the other breast by her right foot, the liver between her feet, the intestines by the right side and the spleen by the left side of her body. The flaps removed from the abdomen and thighs were on a table.The bed clothes were soaked in blood, and on the floor beneath was a pool of blood. The wall by the right side of the bed in line with her neck was marked by blood which had struck it in several places. Probably when her throat was cut.. The neck was cut to the bone. The flesh between the ribs were cut through and the contents of the chest cavity visible through the openings. The flesh of her abdomen from the bottom of her sternum to the pubis were removed in three large flaps. The right thigh was carved to the bone, the flap of skin, including the vagina, and part of the right buttock. The left thigh was stripped to the bone as far as the knee. The left calf showed a long gash reaching from the knee to five inches above the ankle. Her hands had some indications that she had tried to defend herself. On opening her chest it was found that the lower part of the right lung was broken and torn away. The left lung was intact. The chest sack was open below and the heart absent. In the her belly there was some partly digested fish and potatoes, and similar food was found in the stomach attached to the intestines.

 

But the red hair and the eyes were Ros’.

 

Tyrion fought down the gorge rising in his throat. She had been torn to pieces. A bear could not have done more damage to her. “Why?” he said to to one in particular.

Then he heard Lord Varys’ voice. “She betrayed them. She betrayed them both. And they killed her for it.”

“What are you talking about, Varys?” Tyrion said, confused.

“I figured out why we kept getting conflicting reports, my Lord.” Varys continued. “It was because there Were two men, an older man and a boy.”

“What do you mean?”Tyrion asked, dumbfounded.

“I should have seen it sooner. I could have gotten her out.” Varys said quietly, staring at the body. “I thought I was being so smart. I underestimated him.”

“Who?” Tyrion demanded. “What are you talking about Spider?”

“Why Lord Baelish, of course.” Varys said, slowly. “He has been cultivating the young King’s...proclivities, for months now. Yesterday, he found out that Ros was working for me. Or rather, feeding me information as she worked for him.”

“Ros worked for Littlefinger?” Tyrion was even more confused, but starting to put the pieces together, “And for you? As a spy?”

“Yes, quite so.” Varys continued, “ You see I needed someone to keep an eye on Littlefinger. Only a fool trusts Lord Baelish and when he started using Ros to manipulate the King’s new fascination with redheads, well I decided to kill two birds with one stone, as they say. For the good of the realm. But I underestimated him. He saw through Ros. And then he shared that information with the King.”

“And the King did this?” Tyrion said, dumbstruck. “This?” he said, indicating the various pieces of her scattered around the chamber. 

“I am afraid so.” Varys said solemnly. “I have served three Kings, two of them have been Mad and the other a drunkard. It makes me wonder... But I do not believe this is only the work of the King. I have no proof of this, but I believe Lord Baelish has been giving our young King Instruction in his monstrosities. I believe this is revenge for her betrayal, of him and he either helped or egged him on.”

“There have been murders beyond these, my Lord.” Varys continued. “The bastard sons of Robert Baratheon from infant to teen have been dropping dead all over the kingdom. Mya Stone, Edric Storm and a young blacksmith’s apprentice are the only ones I know who still live and most are far away and supposedly beyond the reach of the Queen.”

“So what do I do, now? Where do I go from here, Varys?” Tyrion asked, defeated.

“You go on. You survive.” Varys said, laying his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “You prepare. Stannis is coming. You watch your back, My Lord Hand. You have powerful enemies that are supposed to be allies. But you know the truth of them. That is dangerous.”

“Well, we are about to be besieged by a cunning and relentless opponent. I suppose I could wish for a quick death and then it is someone else’s problems?” Tyrion said, with a lopsided smile.

“Death is never quick to the dying, My Lord Hand.” Varys said meeting Tyrion’s gaze. “Best to let someone else experience it instead.”

“You know, I couldn’t agree more, Varys.” he replied.

 

_As they bathed together, Joffrey smiled. Her hands were smooth as she rinsed his hair again, to wash the last of the blood from it. He rubbed the sponge across her skin, scrubbing at the dried blood on her belly and breasts._

_“You have done well, my son.” Cersei said, grasping his cock and stroking its length, but keeping her hand well away from his sore. “This is nothing! I will search the depths of the Citadel for a cure for you, my Golden Lion! We will teach them what it means to poke a Lioness and her cub!”_


	11. Brienne/Tormund

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Brienne met Tormund, during The Apocalypse

Tormund/Brienne

Zombieland

_Another Rule to surviving Zombieland…_

_(#7 Travel Light)_

_And not just luggage. I had never been popular. I avoided people, even before most people had become Zombies. But it was a lonely existence. I longed for a friendly face. Or any face that wasn’t dripping blood and had human flesh between its teeth._

Brienne walked down the King’s Road Highway, shotgun draped over the pauldron of her armor, as she dragged the roll-away suitcase down the highway, its surface littered with crashed and abandoned cars and trucks and motorcycles. The smell of old leaking oil and gasoline mixed with the stench of death. There were none in sight, but that meant nothing. Sometimes they went dormant when there was nothing to attract their attention and they’d run out of Living to feed on.

She turned at the sound of the engine approaching and saw the black SUV with the snow plow mounted on the front, driving at what Brienne estimated was reckless speed. Obviously, this was someone who took their own life cheaply and would undoubtedly take hers the same way or less. She went to hide behind a nearby car, but the engine sound change and direction let her know she had been spotted. She ducked down and checked needlessly that both barrels of her shotgun were loaded.

_Always be careful what you wish for, sometimes you get it, but not the way you expect it. It’s not really a Rule, but it is true all the same._

The car pulled up ahead of her and slowed. Brienne took cover behind a motorcycle and pointed her shotgun, uneasily.

_Shooting Zombies had gotten commonplace enough, but shooting someone still alive was something else again. But “Murder Hobos” survived the Apocalypse better than “Good People”, so no need to take chances!_

The door opened and the first thing she saw was a cowboy boot and the leg from a pair of jeans. The man who stepped from the vehicle was quite a sight. A shock of bright red hair over a wild face and a bright red beard to match. He wore a Snakeskin jacket with a hoodie and the jeans were topped by a huge belt buckle.

Brienne pointed her shotgun at him as he drew a hog-leg Winchester from a holster on his hip, and pointed it at her. She was ashamed to see the end of the barrel shook as her hand did. She didn’t want to kill this man. He was the first living soul she had seen in a week and she was lonely. He looked at her and smiled and the smile was vaguely predatory. It made her uncomfortable.

Just as the moment began to extend into painfully awkward, a Zombie sat up in one of the cars next to Brienne, startling her. The redheaded man smiled a different smile and stepped forward. Brienne retreated, keeping the distance the same as he advanced. He walked up to the car with the Zombie inside, but never took his eyes off of her. He took hold of the door handle and Brienne realized what her was about to do. He opened the door as he stepped back and Zombie came boiling out of the car, headed straight for her.

She planted her feet and waited for it to rush her.

( _Rule #10 Never Aim Low)_

_A shotgun blast in the country, with no buildings to break up the sound can carry for miles. If I didn’t want a crowd of these things zeroing in on me, I had to do it quietly._

She glared at the redhead as she brought the butt of the shotgun up to smash the Zombie’s forehead as its hands clawed her breastplate harmlessly. It collapsed like it had run into a wall, which essentially it had. She stepped up to the Zombie and raised her mail covered boot.

_(Rule #11 Use Your Foot)_

_I prefer to double-tap them to the head, just to be sure, but when shooting isn’t really a good option, you have to improvise. A little armored boot goes a long way._

She brought her foot down hard and crushed its head like a rotten pumpkin. The smell was somewhat reminiscent, like fresh dog shit.

The man nodded approvingly and holstered his weapon. “You’ll do. Get in.”

Brienne grabbed her suitcase and rolled it to the other side of the SUV. She put her shotgun in the floor between the passenger seat and the center console. She got in and one-handed the suitcase into the back seat. She turned to make sure no one else was in the vehicle.

_(Rule #31 Check The Back Seat)_

_You can’t get your face chewed off if you make sure the back seat is clear. This is an important lesson._

“What are you doing?” the man said.

“Checking the back seat.” She said in a no nonsense sort of way. “I have this List of Rules to…"

“Never mind. There is nothing back there but my duffel bag.” He said with a strange, foreign accent, “Just relax.”

She tried to put him at ease, “I’m Bri…”

“Stop. Just stop. No names. It helps keep us from getting too familiar.” He said, putting a Cowboy hat on his mop of red hair and slipping on some glasses he looked like he had taken off an Elvis Impersonator.

He drew a huge knife from the center console and Brienne flinched. “I’m from Tarth” she said, changing tack. “And you are from?”

“Tarth, huh?” He said, measuring her. “I’m from Up North. You can call me ‘Zombiebane’!” He said, starting the engine.

_(Rule #4 Wear Seat Belts)_

_I have had first hand experience of how this one saves your life_.

Brienne reached up and pulled the seat belt. “You should buckle up for safety.”

“I give this relationship to the Trident,” he said. “You are already pissing me off.” As he swerved thought the broken traffic at what Brienne thought of as breakneck speeds.

Brienne had dozed, but she woke in terror to the sound of screeching tires and the feeling that the SUV was in a skid.

“What the Hell?” she shouted, as she looked out her window at a fast-approaching crashed car.

The SUV stopped mere inches from it, and she looked over to see Zombiebane staring straight ahead at a broken guardrail in front of them. Without a word, the redheaded man opened his door and walked over to the side of the road. Staring down the embankment.

“What the ever loving fuck?” she mumbled as she slid across to exit from the driver’s side door.

_And that is when I learned “Zombiebane’s” one weakness_.

She pulled out the shotgun and walked over to see what the maniac was staring at, “Are you trying to kill us?” She said indignantly, stepping up beside him.

Thirty feet below, down a steep embankment was a crashed truck. A Hostess delivery truck. The front end was smashed into a tree that had stopped its descent.. But the back end was undamaged.

“It’s a god's-damned Hostess truck!” he said, staring.

“I can see that,” she replied. “So what?”

“So I could use a god’s-damned Twinkie!” he said. “You coming?”

“Sure,” she said, “One moment.”

_(Rule # 18 Limber Up)_

_I looked down the embankment. The ground was torn up from the truck’s passage and did not look entirely stable to begin with. The footing could be tricky._

“You have got to be shitting me?” he said, watching her begin to do some lunges and exercises, using the shotgun as a weight.

“No I always limber up. You should too, if we are going down that hill!” She said, using the shotgun to point down the hill.

He continued to watch her, incredulous. “I don’t believe in it. You ever seen a Giant limber up before taking down a Mammoth?”

Brienne stared at the strange man and cocked her head, acknowledging his strange analogy. He nodded and started down to the truck. Brienne following more closely. When he got to the back doors, he turned to see if she was ready, she limbered the shotgun off her shoulder, he kicked the back doors of the tuck.

_Kicking doors is a good tactic for letting you know if there are Zombies on the other side. The sound attracts them and causes them to become excited, which in turn causes them to moan._

They both listened for a moment, but heard nothing from inside. Opening both doors at once, then were greeted with an avalanche of mass produced pastries, all wrapped in a familiar, distinct cellophane wrappers, and inside the white, coconut enrobed chocolate cakes of Snowballs.

 He searched frantically among the pile of wrappers. “SNOWBALLS! FUCKING SNOWBALLS?” He yelled at the pile, stomping them with his boots in a rage.

“I like Snowballs!” Brienne said, picking one up and opening it. The cake was still soft and the coconut smell wafted from the wrapper. “Still fresh!” and she took a big bite!

“I hate coconut!” He said, turning to her. “It’s not the taste, it’s the consistency!” he said, holding up a finger. He looked into the truck at it’s spilled contents. “A whole truck of fucking Snowballs and not one god’s-damned Twinkie? What is the world coming to?”

Suddenly, the pile of racks began to move and the body of the driver came spilling out of the truck at them. Brienne was taken by surprise and fell back with a cry, but the Zombiebane calmly pushed it towards her and then stuck his huge knife in it’s head. It collapsed in a heap, like a puppet with its strings cut, at her feet.

“Bloody Hell!” she exclaimed, kicking it again for good measure.

“Must’ve been so deep in the pile he didn’t hear my kick.” He said, cleaning the brains off his knife on the thing’s shirt. Brienne stared at him in wonder.

_(Rule #8 Get a Kickass Partner)_

_I know what you’re thinking. But it wasn’t like that at first. He stayed cool in the most insane of situations. Which is a really good skill to have in a world gone insane. I just needed to earn his respect, so he saw me the way I saw him._

He stomped back up the hill disappointed. Brienne followed, after grabbing another package of Snowballs for later.

_(Rule #32 Enjoy the Little Things)_

_I watched him climb the hill and couldn’t help but notice his ass in his tight jeans. I’ve got  a rule about No Attachments, but I also have rules about Enjoying the Little Things and Opportunity Knocking… If it knocked, I wasn’t going to turn it away, at least not until I had gotten my itch scratched… Besides, from what I could tell, it wasn’t a “Little Thing”..._

 

_(Rule # 14 Always Carry a Change of Underwear)_

_Opportunity Knocked a few nights later, when we found a deserted Hotel with a Honeymoon Suite that wasn’t soaked in gore. He rifled the minibar and I went in the bathroom. The water was still running here, so I took a cold shower. I changed into some Sansa’s Secret underwear I had picked up at a mall and saved for just such an occasion. Yes, I DO have a Rule about Bewaring Bathrooms, but we had checked the whole place out earlier..._

Brienne stepped from the bathroom with nothing on but some lace panties and a towel she had used to dry her close-cropped hair draped over her shoulders. “Anything good in there?” she said, quietly.

“How was your show…” he said, stopping mid-word as he turned to look at her. His mouth hanging open. In his hands he had several small bottles of liquor. “Um, wow…”

“I was just thinking… Here we are, in this place, and the world is going to Hell… So, why not?” she said, standing perfectly still.

_It could go either way, I knew from painful experience, but I figured “What the fuck?”_

He smiled and threw the bottles on the bed. “If I can’t have a Twinkie, I might as well creme-fill someone, myself!” He said, setting his hat on the table and stripping off his jacket. “You, the way you look at me… like you want to carve me up and eat my liver! You make me crazy! You are a giant of a woman! We could make babies! They would be monsters! They would conquer the world!” He said, unsnapping the buttons of his Western shirt all at once.

_(Rule # 5 No Attachments!)_

_Babies? Who said anything about babies, you Ginger maniac? I just want my itch scratched! This was the problem with an Apocalypse. Half the people are trying to “rebuild the world” while it's Ending._

“Let’s worry about babies later, shall we?” she said, stepping up and running her hands across his muscled chest. “Let’s just enjoy the moment!” She said as she leaned down to kiss him.

As their tongues met she grabbed him by his mop of red hair and pulled his head back and kissed his throat. He growled as her tongue traced a line from the hollow of his throat up up his ear, but he giggled when she slipped the tip of her tongue inside his ear.

“What are you doing? That tickles!” he said, pulling away. “So what if it does? It feels good, right?”she said, stepping back into his space.

“Well, yes, but…” his words were cut off as she kissed him again.

“I’m tired of words, show me what you can do!” She said huskily.

He grabbed the towel and pushed her back onto the bed, supporting her as he laid her down. She laid back on the satin bedcover and brought her knees up. He ran his hands across the lacy panties. “These are nice. Did you get them in the same place you got that fancy armor?” He asked, stoking her through the fabric.

She closed her eyes at the sensations, the warmth in her insides growing. She could feel herself growing wet. “I found them at a mall, two months ago. And no. The Armor I found six months ago in a museum. It was being refurbished to be mounted on a display, that’s why it’s not wired together.” She said as he pulled down her panties and buried his red beard in her crotch, tickling her. “Hey! That tickles!” She said, laughing.

“So what if it does? It feels good, right?” he said in a fair approximation of her tone. And he returned to his business.

They made love all night, breaking only to drain the little pile of liquor bottles.

_(Rule # 1 Cardio)_

_I would like to say it was "The Best Sex of My Life", but the truth was, other than the awkward fumbling that lost me my virginity at 14, the only sex I had had was with myself. Now The Zombiebane, or Tormund, as he admitted “in flagrante” may or may not have been awesome, but I was not a good judge. The important part was, he was better than my hand and that was enough._


	12. Shireen/Rickon/Shaggy-dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaggy Doo, where are you?

Shireen/Rickon/Shaggy-dog

Scooby-doo

“And I would have gotten away with it, too! If it wasn’t for those meddling kids and their dog!” Old Man Lannister said as the Sheriff put him in the police cruiser.

“Zoinks! He’s not a dog, he’s a Direwolf!” Rickon said, his voice cracking.

“Reah!” Said Shaggy-dog, his tongue lolling out.

The Sheriff turned back to them and looked at the four kids and their pet with wonder. “So how did you figure it was Old Man Lannister, anyhow?"

“It’s simple!” said Harrold, standing with his hands on his hips. “Once we figured out the Lannister Gold Mines were empty, it all became obvious!”

“Jinkies!” Exclaimed Shireen, “The whole War was just a front to get white kids with blond or red hair and sell them to the Slavers of Essos. Luckily, he got obsessed with our Sansa here, so we could use her for bait, right Sansa? Sansa?”

“Jeepers! I don’t know how long your sentence will be, but write me, okay?” Sansa said, slipping a piece of paper to Old Man Lannister.

“Well, we sure thank you kids for unraveling this sex trafficking ring for us!” The Sheriff said, smiling. “If not for you, they could have made millions off the war orphans. But I just have one question, if Old Man Lannister was the Ring Leader, who started the War?”

“Raggy Raggy Roo!” Shaggy-dog said, barking. He was standing next to an old stone Dragon.

“What have you got there, Shaggy?” Rickon said, ambling over.

Shaggy pawed at the Dragon’s tooth and it opened to reveal a hidden compartment. Inside was Littlefinger!

“IT’S PETYR BAELISH!” They all said together.

“Of course!” Shireen exclaimed! Only he could have snuck the dagger and the assassin into Winterfell! They thought he was a friend of Cat’s!”

Harrold piped in, “And he has the connections through his brothels to the Slaver’s Guild! And he could use the profits to buy gold that they melted down to make it look like it was coming from the mines for the Lannisters!”

“Zoinks! And they nearly got my brother killed and did get my parent’s and older brother killed!” Rickon exclaimed!

“Reah!” said Shaggy-dog. “Rirty Rastard!

“Because your father got too close to the truth!” Littlefinger exclaimed as he was led to the police cruiser.

“Come along, Littlefinger, it’s off to prison for you! They will love a little guy like you!” the Sheriff said, putting his cuffs on him, too.

“Reeheeheehee!” Said Shaggy-dog. “Re’s ronna re a Rell Ritch!” And they all laughed.

But as they were laughing Shaggy was inspecting the inside of the Dragon, sniffing.

“What’d you find there, Shaggy? Rickon asked, curious.

“Rothing!” Shaggy replied, bis tail wagging like crazy, but Shireen looked over his back and laughed.

“It seems Littlefinger had plans for an extended stay in there, there is plenty of food and a can for wastes!” Shireen explained.

“Like, plenty of food! Save some for me, Shaggy!” Rickon exclaimed.

“Rope, rall rone!” Shaggy said, licking his lips.

“YOU, LIKE, ATE IT ALL?” yelled Rickon.

“RAGGY RAGGY ROO!” Shaggy howled out, and they all laughed, except Rickon.


	13. Sansa/ Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has to sift thru Ramsay's mind for answers

Sansa/Ramsay

The Cell

_The stone was cold beneath her feet. Cold, lifeless, stealing her warmth. She walked thru the half-lit halls, searching. She came into a hall, wider than the Great Hall of the Red Keep she remembered visiting as a child. The halls whispered, partially a wind and partially moans and indecipherable words. Sansa walked thru the halls, searching for the inhabitant of this terrible place. She saw hounds, staring at her and staring through her. The cold drip, drip, drip of blood. The dogs were soaked in it._

_Then a blur of movement without moving, and she is in another room. A bedchamber. Tapestries covered the walls, but the things they depicted were terrible. Violence and sex, mixed in a morbid danse macabre. The figures seemed alive, writhing in ecstasy and agony. Flayed skin entwined and skinless bodies writhing in bloody pools in beds and on the floor._

_Her head whips around and she sees the bed. Wide and long and covered in bloody furs. She sees the child huddled there. Bloody, weeping, staring into nothing._

_She hears the door ripped open and it slams against the wall. She turns and in walks a giant, his skin painted white and a flayed man tattooed into the skin of his chest. She turns to flee, but the only way out is the window. She looks for the boy, still huddling on the bed and he screams, “RUN!”_

_Sansa’s only choice is the window. She bunches her legs and leaps and feels a few strands of her hair torn loose as the grasping hand just misses her. She leaps through the window and begins to fall. She turns and sees the boy, looking down at her, his face pale under his curly mop of dark hair and his eyes wide. “FLY!” he screams at her, and she turns around to see the ground rushing up to meet her, but before she can hit, she is borne up on black wings._

_She soars across the courtyard that looks like ever castle she has ever visited, all rolled into one. Towers and walls of every shape and size, stonework of every color and texture. She swoops and banks and rises up to perch on the tallest tower. She looks down at the window she fell from, but there is no one there._

_She turns as she hears someone approaching and resumes her normal form and there rushing towards her is the Giant, his face a mask of rage!_

_“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” He screams and pushes her off the ledge, her back striking the top of the merlons painfully and sending her spinning and falling._

_She has no choice, she pinches between her thumb and index finger of her right hand on the sensor there, and prays she wakes before she hits._

 

She hears a mechanical sounding voice, “What are your words?” when she doesn’t reply immediately, it asks again, “What are your words?”

“Winter is coming.” She says groggily.

“What are your words?” The voice repeats again.

“Winter Is Coming!” She says, more strongly.

“And what happens to the Lone Wolf?” The voice asked her. The Second Password.

“It dies alone.” She said, closing her eyes in grief.

“She’s back.” The voice says.

“Welcome back!” A new voice tells her, sounding close and very human.

The shroud was removed from her face and the chemical interface needle was removed from her arm. “Just take it easy. You were in there pretty deep!” and she looked up into the face of Dr. Missandei. “How do you feel?”

Sansa just let herself breathe and let her heart-rate return to normal. “Like I was thrown off a tower!” She said, truthfully.

“That isn’t funny Sansa!” Dr. Missandei rebuked her.

“No, it’s the truth! “ Sansa replied. “He threw me off a tower. I got lucky.”

As she sat up, the door opened and young man with dark hair and and a beard and wearing a dark suit and trench coat approached.

“Did you find anything? Do you know where she is?” He said, earnestly. “Anything at all that can help us find her? We are running out of time!”

“Nothing that will help you, no.” she said, fighting a headache that threatened to split her skull as neatly as the courtyard would have. “But I may have a lead on how to reach him.”

“That’s not good enough!” The Inspector said, slamming his hand onto the plinth she had be resting on. “When can you go back in?”

“Inspector, PLEASE!” Dr. Missandei protested. “She just came out! Just so you know, there is considerable risk for Sansa when she does this! You wouldn’t be in this predicament, if you hadn’t beaten him into a coma, Inspector!”

Sansa raised her hand to stop her friend’s defense. “I just need a few minutes. But I think i found Ramsay in there. Or at least the boy he could have been,” Sansa said, taking another deep breath, holding it and releasing it slowly. “Just give me a couple, and then I will go back in. I know what’s at stake, Jon!”

Dr. Missandei left to get her some water and Jon helped her into a recovery room off the interface chamber.

“Sorry, Sansa! But this son-of-bitch has killed SEVEN women that we know of, and we have less than twelve hours to find Jeyne before she becomes Number Eight!” Jon said, apologetically. “I’m under the gun, here. He is the only one who knows where she is and you’re the only one who can tell me what he know!”

“Because you hit him too hard when you caught him?” Sansa asked, none-too-gently.

“No!”Jon protested. “I mean, yes, I beat him, when we caught him, but he didn’t hit his head and I didn’t hit him that hard! Something else is wrong with him!”

“The doctors say his brain was already ready to fracture his mind, the head trauma just sped up the event.” Sansa reassured him. “You didn’t do it to him, it was going to happen either way.”

“But if it hadn’t happened now, maybe I could have gotten him to confess her location!” Jon replied, frustrated.

“You don’t know that. Any cop could have hit him or pushed him into the top of a squad car doorway.” Sansa replied. “Wrong place, wrong time. Nothing more.”

“Do you really think you can find him?” Jon asked her.

“You are a cop. You know how there is the public face that people let the rest of us see, and the person inside, the Real Them, that they almost never let out?” Sansa asked.

“Yeah. Being a cop, we see the insides come out, sometimes. The things that people wouldn’t normally do, but this time they did. They are usually pretty dark, to be honest!” Jon replied.

“Sure.” Sansa said, “but in the interface, I get to see them for who they are. I get to FEEL it. And some of them are more terrible, or beautiful, than you can possibly imagine! When I go deep, the danger is losing myself. Not being able to tell their dream from reality. And his dream is DARK! I would not want to get lost in it! There is a real Monster inside him!”

“Oh, I know!”Jon replied, “I’ve seen what it can do.” He said in a haunted voice. Staring at nothing. It reminded Sansa of the boy in Ramsay’s dreamscape.

“I will find him, Jon, And I will get him to tell us what he knows. I only hope it is in time.”

She re-entered the interface chamber. Ramsay still lay on his plinth the shroud on its hanger, above his battered face.

Jon had really done a number on him, but nothing more than he deserved, if the reports she had read were correct. The man was a monster. She took a deep breath and climbed up onto her own plinth and lay down.

Dr. Missandei came in and helped place the suspension lines and straps and inserted the interface needle, then stood above her head. “Are you sure about this, Sansa?” She said, with worried tone, “You haven’t had time to rest, and his subconscious is strong. And he is trapped there for the rest of his life. Are you sure you want to go in there so soon.”

“I have to, doc. This ‘Jeyne’ is running out of time!” Sansa said.

“Well, be ready to pull yourself out, if it gets too intense.” The doctor replied.

She stepped over and dropped the shroud onto Ramsay’s face, then came back to stand above Sansa. “Good luck!” And she placed the shroud over Sansa’s face.

Sansa could feel the warmth of the interface chemicals entering her system, She calmed her breathing and relaxed into the transition. There was the rushing sensation, like being pulled through a tube of images, both random and specific, but too quick for her to distinguish one from the other.

_She stood on a precipice. The chasm before her so deep she could not see the bottom. She looked up and there was another above her. She became disoriented. A feeling of falling came over her and she tried to exert some control over her state._

_With difficulty she restored her equilibrium and turned from the precipice, only to face the child she had seen earlier._

_“Is that for me?” he said, quietly. His eyes big as saucers._

_“I guess that depends,” replied Sansa. “What’s your name?”_

_The boy didn’t answer. He turned and walked away. Sansa followed. “Where are we going?” she asked the boy. The boy didn’t reply, but kept walking._

_They came to a stair, only now he was at the first landing as she put her foot on the first step. When she ran to catch up, the boy wasn’t there. When she turned to look for him, he was descending another stairway on another wall. “Ramsay! Wait!” she cried out, looking for some way to reach the boy. When she turned again to the stairs, they were gone._

_She heard a growl behind her and whirled, to find two great hunting hounds, their fur soaked in blood growling at her. She backed away and ran into a door. She grasped for the handle, turned the latch and slipped inside._

_“Well hello, Wife.” A voice said behind her. She turned to find the man she had seen on the plinth, but whole and hale, smiling at her. He was nude and erect, not five feet from her._

_She turned from his nakedness to face a mirror. She stared at her reflection in horror. She was wearing an exotic antique wedding dress, all in white, with white fur topping her off -the-shoulder style. She saw Ramsay walk up behind her._

_“You came to me willingly, Lady Stark.” He whispered in her ear. “But now you are Mrs. Bolton! You are mine! To do with as I please. For as long as I please. No more police pursuit now, I am FREE!” and he licked the inside of her ear most invasively._

_Sansa shuddered and tried the door, but it was locked. She could hear the hounds growling on the other side._

_“I could feed you to them, you know. And bring you right back.” He said, pressing his erection in her gown, driving the fabric between her butt cheeks. “But I think I will forgo that fun for now. I want you all to myself for the first time.” He said, turning her._

_She stared into his bright blue eyes, as he stared into hers. “This will be more fun than I’ve ever had!” he said, triumphantly and ripped her dress to expose her breasts._

_Sansa stood paralyzed, caught in his gaze and unable to fight or flee. He bent to suckle them and she gasped as the touch of his tongue brought arousal, not revulsion. She reached with her left hand to trigger the sensor, but Ramsay grabbed her wrist in an iron grip._

_“Ah ah! None of that! I won’t stand for a runaway bride, Lady Bolton!” He said as a leather loop went around her wrist. She was so filled with shock that he was able to loop her other wrist before she knew what was happening._

_Then she was pulled by her wrists across the tall bed until her arms were outstretched and her thighs pressed against the mattress and tall frame._

**THIS IS JUST A DREAM!** She thought to herself. **WAKE UP!** She screamed. _Trying to reach the sensor._

_Ramsay took out a long dagger. He began to slowly cut the laces of the bodice in the back of the dress. One. By. One. When he had finished, he tore the dress open at the back. Sansa could feel the cold of the room on her thighs and buttocks. He pulled down her small clothes. And the cold in the room was biting. She could see her breath now, like a fog in front of her._

**WAKE THE FUCK UP!** She screamed in her mind. **OH GOD’S WHY CAN’T I WAKE UP?!?**

_His hands pulled the fabric farther open and his feet kicked her hers out into a wider stance._ **FINE. IF YOU CAN’T WAKE, THEN TAKE CONTROL!** She screamed at herself. _She felt him reach up with his thumbs to spread her open. “This may hurt a bit!”He said playfully, “But not as much as what comes after!” And he entered her._

_The pain was like an explosion in her mind. She was free of the paralysis now. She squeezed herself, hard. At first he moaned, thinking she had surrendered to him, the he shouted, then he screamed, as she clenched tighter and tighter._

**THAT’S IT! CRUSH HIM!** _She heard herself shout triumphantly._

_He tried to pound her into submission, but she had such a grip on him he couldn’t move, either in or OUT! “LET GO OF ME, YOU BITCH!” Ramsay screamed.”AAH! OWW!”_

_“Not until you tell me where the girl is, Ramsay!” Sansa said, calmly. She crossed her legs to clamp tighter and he screamed._

_They were standing in a wheat field. Two huge metal silos in the distance. A few smaller buildings abutted one of them. On was painted Red and had a faded logo of yellow flames. Below, the log “R’hllor Grain and Feed” was visible, if not clear. To the East was a line of trees, making a river running Northeast to Southwest and to the north was a line of low hills. Sansa took it all in in a moment and committed it to memory. She could find this place on a map, if she were shown the right map._

_“YOU’RE COMING WITH ME!” A voice thundered, and the Giant picked her up by the waist with one hand and carried her to the silos in a rush. He took her to a small door in the side of one of the buildings next to the red silo._

_“That was a neat trick you pulled back there.” Ramsay said, smiling. “But this is MY World, Sansa!” and now she was back in street clothes, but her hands were bound behind her. He took her inside the building and down several rusty rank- smelling hallways to a stairway leading down._

_There was a heavy door at the bottom, which he pulled open. Inside was a large chamber with strange apparatus on several workbenches and what appeared to be a table beneath several hanging chains. Another metal table stood beneath six shower heads. In one corner of the room was a chamber. It’s two exposed walls were made of glass and the others were flush with the corner of the larger chamber. In the cell was a woman, treading water and screaming for help. The chamber was nearly half full._

_Sansa felt herself launched across the room to a metal stand, like a large X. Her wrists were somehow affixed by straps, as were her ankles. She was spread eagle and nude. And Ramsay stood before her with a metal tray on a cart, with various medical cutlery displayed._

_"Drowning was for my dolls, Sansa. They were pale blonde and perfect little dolls after I get done with them. But your hair is red. Like blood. So I will have to make you into a different kind of doll, I think!” He said, licking his lips._

_He picked up a scalpel and the edge glinted in the fluorescent light overhead._

_It was a that moment, that Sansa heard the howl. It was not a hound’s. It was a Direwolf._

_" **What are your words?** " The voice asked, distant, but sharp. Almost frantic. _

“Winter is coming!” Sansa said out loud.

“No. Not here, Sansa.” Ramsay said, as if he could not hear. “Here it is whatever I say it is.”

" _ **What happens to the Lone Wolf?**_ " The voice was distant, but clearer.

“The Lone Wolf dies alone.” She said, with conviction.

“Why yes, I suppose it does,” Ramsay said, perplexed by her responses. “But death is only a temporary State of Being, here, my dear Sansa. I promise to bring you right back, after, so we can play again!” He said, reaching up for her right thumb.

She heard the wolf howl again, searching, waiting for a response.

**I AM IN CHARGE OF ME, NOT HIM!**   _Her inner voice reminded her. She summoned the will, as she had before, and she changed._

_By the time he reached her thumb with the blade, it had changed. He paw easily slipped from the straps and she dropped to the ground, causing Ramsay to take a step back._

_“That’s another neat trick!” He said. “You can teach it to me, later!” he said, starting to move forward._

_She HOWLED. A long, mournful wail that rolled on and on, “AWOOOOOOOOoooooooooo!”_

_Ramsay paused, and then she was answered, and it was much closer now, as if speed and distance were irrelevant. Which they were here._

_Ramsay turned as a white Direwolf rushed through the doorway he had forgotten to close, the wolf leapt for his throat and he slashed with the scalpel. Sansa ruched forward, her teeth clenching on the back of his leg, hamstringing him._

_He fell to the floor and the white wolf tore out his throat! She reached up to tear at his genitals and his gargling scream made her yank her head back and forth in fury._

_She stood above the corpse in her street clothes. Jon stood beside her in his dark suit and trench coat. “Well I overdid it again!” He said, mournfully._

_“No,” Sansa said, pointing. “We can find this place.”_

_The chamber was still filling, but now she was staring at them._

_“What if we’re wrong?” Jon said, nervous._

_“I will bring him right back and we can ask him again.” Sansa said. A triumphant smile of her own on her face. There’s just one more thing…_

_They stood on the edge of the precipice, the chasm before them. Between them stood the child Ramsay._

_“I’m scared” he said to Sansa._

_“I know.” she said, smiling down at him. “But so were they!” And she threw him over the edge to fall screaming. It didn’t stop. “Now let’s go save Jeyne!” She said, pressing her trigger to wake..._


	14. Sansa/Petyr/Robyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, a little "Away Time" isn't always a good thing!

Sansa/ Petyr

The Shining

 

They had come to the hotel so Petyr could get over his writer’s block, but also so they could earn some money. A writer that didn’t write didn’t eat. Sansa and Little Robyn would entertain themselves elsewhere and Petyr would write in the Lobby. There weren’t really that many chores that a Winter Caretaker had to take care of, so it left him plenty of time to write.

Or that was the plan.

 

 

“Petyr? Are you alright? You were screaming!”” Sansa said, walking up to her husband. It appeared that he had fallen asleep at his typewriter.

“I...I had a nightmare.” Petyr said, his face haunted. The dark circles beneath his eyes made him look maniacal. “I dreamed I went mad and killed you and Robyn.” He said, tears in his eyes. “Why would I dream that?”

“It’s this place.” She replied.”It’s big and empty and spooky. Your subconscious just took off with that story Old Nan told us before she left! About the previous Caretaker, Ramsay. How he killed his wife and son and then himself. How his dogs fed on their bodies. That would give anyone nightmares!”

“Yeah, that must be it.” Petyr said, looking down at what he had typed and frowned and pulled the sheet of paper from the typewriter, crumpled it up and threw it on the pile that overflowed from the trash can next to him. He stood and stretched, and turned to her, leaning forwards and smiling which made the whites of his eyes appear beneath his pupils in a most unsettling way. “Where’s Robyn?”

Sansa swallowed and took in a breath. “He is riding around somewhere on his Big Wheel, why?”

Petyr straightened his rumpled shirt. “No reason. Just CURIOUS ABOUT MY SON! DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT? HUH? DO YA?” He suddenly screamed in her face.

Sansa was shocked by the outburst, but she could smell no alcohol on his breath. He used to be like this when he drank. He even dislocated Robyn’s shoulder once, shaking him in a fit of rage. That was the moment. She threatened to leave him, if he didn’t seek help for his drinking. And he had! He had gone to the meetings and done all the steps. He had been a loving father in the years, since. Gentle and kind and patient with Robyn, who was a little different than most children.

_Robyn was quiet and withdrawn. He didn’t speak much and often he made things up, like his imaginary friend, Rickon. The isolation of the hotel had not bothered him at first. He had loved listening to the stories Old Nan, the Hotel Chef used to tell them. How the Hotel was built on the remains of an old Godswood and crypt of a castle that stood here Centuries before. How the place was haunted by the people who had died in the castle. And to never go near room 237._

_The first month they had been there, they had all been happy. She and Robyn had played in the hedge maze outside, discovering its secrets and hidden treasures, while Petyr sat diligently before his typewriter, trying to break his writer’s block. The dinners prepared by Old Nan, that Sansa could never have managed herself. Intricate and delicious. Even picky Robyn ate every bite. Old Nan said she and Robyn had “Taken a Shine to each other” and she said the word with emphasis, as if it had a deeper meaning. She would often see them in the kitchen. Robyn sitting on a stool, staring at her as she worked and then she would just turn, without a word and fix him a bowl of ice cream, which he would dig into hungrily._

_“You pay attention to your Shine, boy!” She told them, before she left for Holiday down South. “You mind it, and what it tells you! And keep your momma safe!”_

_“I will, Nan!” The boy told her solemnly. “You keep in touch!”_

_“I will, boy! You listen for me on the wind!” She replied, just as solemn. “And you stay away from 237, you hear!” She said, tapping his chest with her index finger._

_“We all will, Nan.” Sansa had told her, stepping up beside Robyn, protectively. The whole exchange had made her uncomfortable._

Petyr turned suddenly, without a word and just walked away from her. Up the stairs of The Grand Staircase and down the North Wing. Sansa watched him go, then turned and went in the opposite direction.

She went to the wide back doors that led out into the Hedge Maze. The whole of the wall was nothing but tall, glass, paned-window  doors, looking out into the Garden. Sansa could see no tracks in the snow, so Robyn was not outside. Which was good, because judging by the heavy clouds rolling in from the Northeast, they were about to get another snowstorm.

Petyr walked the hallways of the North Wing. Halfway down the hall, he came upon the door to room 237. It didn’t seem ominous to him. It was just a door, like the hundreds of others just like it throughout the Hotel. He turned to look down the hallway in each direction. Toward the Lobby, to his right, there was no one. _But when he turned to the left, far down the hall near the T-intersection, there appeared to be twin young girls. Their hair was red and their cold, staring eyes were blue. They wore matching dresses of a black and grey plaid. They didn’t say a word, but he could almost hear their voices._

“ **DON’T GO IN**!”, one seemed to say, while the other voice said, “ **Go in, Petyr, my only love!** ”

He turned back to door 237, and then looked back down the hall. The twins were gone, and in there place sat his son, on his Big Wheel, staring at him. The boy pedaled himself forward and the sound of his wheel on the carpet was an eerie whirring sound.

The boy pedaled slowly up to his father, who looked down at him curiously. “What’s up, sport?” he asked the boy.

In a strange, deep, throaty voice, the boy replied “Redrum!”

“What was that?” Petyr asked the boy.

“REDRUM!” Robyn replied, his face tilted down so the whites of his eyes were exposed, making him look demented.

“What’s that, sonny-boy? Petyr said, cocking his head to the side. “What’s that you say?”

“ **REDRUM**!” the voice that came from the boy echoed in his head. Petyr took a step back and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the boy was gone. He turned back to the door to Room 237 and took out the Master Key he’d been given, and unlocked it. He turned the handle and opened the door.

_The room was full of steam and he could hear the shower running. Petyr stepped inside and the door closed behind him, silently. He walked across the room, bumping into a table in the center of the room, he couldn’t see for the steam. “Is there anyone here?” He said, loudly. “Sansa?”_

_He walked cautiously to the bathroom doorway, he could barely see through the fog as a lighter patch of grey. The steam seemed to thicken as he approached, then thinned as he crossed the threshold. He could see a figure through the fogged up glass of the shower. It was a woman, red-haired, but not as tall as Sansa. She was full figured, but her large firm breasts stood out from her ribs. “Hello?” Petyr spoke to be heard above the shower._

_The woman turned and he heard the water shut off. The glass door of the shower slid back and out stepped a beautiful woman of indeterminate age. She was voluptuous in figure, with hips much wider than Sansa’s narrow ones and breasts easily twice her size, yet still firm and tight. She had pink areolas with dark red nipples that hardened as he stared._

_“Would you mind handing me a towel?” She said, raising a well shaped brow._

  
_Petyr turned and saw one sitting on the seat of the toilet, A deep red, plush towel, thick and heavy. He picked it up and handed it to her, forcing himself to stare into her pale blue eyes instead of anywhere else._

_She smiled and took the towel, and began to dry her hair. Not trying to cover herself at all. She stared boldly at him as he watched, but instead of turning away in embarrassment, he watched her. There was not a flaw or a blemish he could see as she dried her hair and then took the towel to wipe her flesh dry, slowly. Watching him as she did it. As she slid up her thigh, she lingered where her legs met and the tiny bush of red hair above. She worked her hands and the towel there as he watched, and he felt himself growing hard, watching._

_“Do you like what you see, Petyr?” She said in a sultry voice. She was obviously aroused by her own ministrations._

_“Oh, yes, very much!” Petyr said, leaning forward and cocking his head to the side._

_“That’s good!” She said smiling, and slipped a hand beneath the towel. Her hips began to buck and she pulled her knees in tight as she gasped._

_Petyr licked his lips, but remained still. Content, for the moment. Just to watch her pleasure herself._

_“Would you like to join me?” She said, dropping the towel and widening her stance. He could see her glistening and a drop of wetness on one of her pubic hairs._

_“Oh YES!” He exclaimed, trying to step forward and failing._

_“Then there is something you will have to do for me.” she said, holding up two fingers. “Two things, actually.”_

_“What? TELL ME!” He said in frustration._

_“We’re not alone here, are we?” She said, putting her hands on her breasts and pinching the nipples hard. “If you want me, you will have to do something about that, Petyr. Or else you can’t have what you want…” She said, turning away._

_“NO!” The sense of loss as she turned from him was almost unbearable, but then she bent over the sink and stared at him through his reflection in the mirror. She spread her legs, and arched her back, exposing herself to him completely. Her sex was a dark pink wet slit, and her puckered little hole above was pale pink and winked at him as she flexed her kegel muscles for him._

“ _Just two little things, Petyr. That’s all. then I’m yours and you are mine.” she said, turning to look over her shoulder at him. She winked and blew him a kiss and he blinked._

When he opened his eyes he was standing outside Room 237. Sansa was standing next to him.

“Have you seen Robyn, Petyr?”she asked, concerned. You didn’t go in there, did you? Old Nan said never to go in there!”

He turned to her, and the circles had deepened beneath his eyes, the lower lids drooping so that the whites showed underneath all the time, now.

“No. I didn’t go in. And no, I haven’t seen the boy lately.” Then he cocked his head to the side, and shouted, “BUT PERHAPS YOU WOULD EXCUSE ME, I NEED TO BE WRITING MY STORY!”

Sansa stared at his mercurial change of mood in shock. “You do what you need to do, Petyr. I’m going to find Robyn.

And she walked down the hall towards where he had seen the twins. When she got to the intersection, she glanced back at him, but didn’t say a word and went left.

Petyr went back down the Grand Staircase, but instead of returning to his typewriter, he went into the Gold Room. A bar off the Lobby that also connected to the Grand Ballroom. _When he entered, he paused, there behind the bar stood a tall man with receding golden hair that met in a high Widow’s Peak and a grey stubble of a beard. He was washing a glass and looked up as Petyr entered,_

_“Ah, Mr. Baelish, I believe, isn’t it?” He said, setting the glass down and turning back to the bar as Petyr walked up, cautiously. “Bourbon, wasn’t it?”_

_Petyr felt himself drawn into the room, to sit on the stool before the man. “Yeah, And your name was, again?”_

_“Oh, it’s Tywin, same as always.” The man replied, turning with a bottle of fine whiskey in his hand. He poured a double into the glass and slid it towards Petyr._

_Petyr stared at it, without taking it. “I thought it was just us, since Old Nan left!” Petyr said.” How long have you been here?”_

_“Oh, it seems like forever! “Tywin said, smiling an enigmatic smile. “But time is hard to judge in such places. Go on. Drink it. It won’t bite you, I’m sure!”_

_Petyr picked up the glass and sniffed. The aroma was intoxicating. But still he hesitated._

_“Why, whatever is wrong, Petyr?” Tywin said, smiling to reassure. “You almost seem like you’ve seen a ghost!” and he laughed._

_Petyr laughed along with him and then downed the glass in one pull. “Maybe I have!” He said, pushing the glass forward for a refill, which Tywin poured. He downed it like the first. “Maybe I am!” He said, looking at Tywin._

Robyn rolled thru the hall slowly on his big wheel, then he came to a long hall and he pedaled as fast as he could, the sound of his wheel on the runner growing to a high pitched hum as he sped down the hallway. When he neared the end, he grabbed the brake handle and turned the wheel, to drift around the corner to his right. His feet stomped into place and he slid to a stop, his head bobbing forward. He looked up at twin girls, at little older that he was. They dressed the same and they were both very pale and had dark red hair, darker than his mother’s.

_“ **You must be careful!** ” one said in his head. “ **He’s going to get you!** ” the other said, the same way._

_“ **Always turn Right, to escape from the Maze!** ” the first voice said again. “ **No left!”** said the other voice._

_The boy stared at them, but their faces were identical and unreadable. " “ **Right in the Night, to save you from Fright!”** Old Nan said." He told them._

_“ **Find your mother!”** the first voice warned. “ **NO! Stay here and play!”** The other voice countered._

_There was a roaring sound, and a river of blood came pouring down the hallway towards them. The girls seemed to pay it no mind, but Robyn screamed as the flow engulfed him._

 

Sansa walked down the hall, but could find no sign of Robyn. She went to the end of the hall and pressed the button for the elevator. The bell chimed and the doors opened to reveal the antique caged elevator. She lifted and rotated the gate latch, opened the gates and stepped inside. The elevator controls were ancient as well. No buttons on the inside, just a lever with an arrow that pointed to an arch of numbers, ranging from one to six. She closed and latched the gate and slid the control all the way over. “Better to start at the top and work my way down!” She said to herself. The lift began to rise.

_Sansa looked down at the floor where a pool of blood had started to form. Sansa looked on in horror as the elevator began to fill with blood, as if she were being lowered into a pool of it, not rising towards the sixth floor. She screamed and tried to climb the sides of the cage to get away, but the lift began to fill. She was force to tread in it to keep her head above the surface. The Blood was warm, as if it had just been drawn from a body and it revolted Sansa to even touch it. Her head was nearing the ceiling and she was fumbling for the controls and the gate latch without dipping below the surface, but nothing seemed to be working. She began to cry in frustration as she found it harder and harder to keep her mouth and nose out of the warm liquid. Her eyes burned when the salty fluid go into her eyes and she began to panic and scream! “HELP! PETYR! HELP ME!” she screamed. Kicking the gate with her feet.Just as the blood reached the ceiling and covered her completely, there was a ding from the bell and the doors opened. The blood came pouring out and crushing her against the gate. She fumbled at the latch and finally got it opened, when she pulled the gate open, she was washed down the hallway in the torrent. She came to rest in a heap before her son, sitting on his Big Wheel. His eyes were staring widely and he was covered in blood, but he said not a word._

Sansa picked him up and held him tightly. “Oh Robyn! My Sweet Robyn!” She cried, closing her eyes. When she opened them, they were bloodless, clean, standing in the hall at the other end from the elevator. Robyn’s Big Wheel was nowhere in sight. The boy just held her. She wanted to wash his face, but she notice the door number and froze. The number on the door should have read 696, but the center digit had come loose at the top and rotated upside down. So it read 666, with the center six being lower than the framing two. Sansa shook her head in denial and ran, but not to the elevator, she ran to the stairs and it was only the caution of carrying her son that kept her from falling headfirst down them!

When she got to the bottom, she was winded and her arms and legs burned, from the exertion of holding her son tightly and walking down six flights of stairs. She took him into the kitchen and set him on the counter near the sink. She examined him closely as she washed his face with a washcloth, but could find no signs of blood on him or herself. Until she got to his finger. It appeared he had a small cut on the tip of his index finger.

“Oh Robyn, what is happening?” she asked, leaning down to re-wet the cloth in the sink. Robyn leaned over her.

“ **Redrum**!” He said in a strange, froggy voice. “ **Redrum**!” He repeated.

“Robyn! You aren’t making any sense, honey!” Sansa told her son.

“ **Not Robyn! Rickon**!” Her son told her, angrily.

“Robyn! Stop! It’s not funny anymore!” she shouted at him. She bent to wet the cloth further. “Give me your finger!” But she looked up into the mirror and in the reflection, she could see he had written on the side of the cabinet next to her the word “MURDER”. She stood up and looked and the writing in her son’s blood said “REDRUM” and her eyes widened. She shook her son gently.

“Mommy!” The boy cried, hugging her. “Rickon says we should run, but not straight!” Sansa hugged him back.

“Let’s go find your father and go!” She said picking him up.

“No mommy! Just us!” He said, squirming. “Let’s go!”

“Don’t be silly!” Sansa said, “I can’t leave you father here!” She paused to pick up a butcher knife without thinking why and she carried him into the lobby, to the table where Petyr had spent so much time over the last three months. But he was not there.

Sansa set Robyn on the table next to the typewriter. She bent to pick up the crumpled piece of paper he had thrown down earlier. She unfolded it awkwardly, with the knife in her hands and began to read. Her eyes widened in horror. The paper fell from her grasp as she picked up the boy and ran for the front door.

As the paper fell to the floor it lay face up. The page was full if script. But it was all the same sentence, over and over:

“Petyr, Petyr, the Pumpkin Eater, had a wife, but couldn’t keep her! Petyr, Petyr, the Pumpkin Eater, had a wife and couldn’t keep her! Petyr, Petyr, the Pumpkin Eater, had a wife, but couldn’t keep her! Petyr, Petyr, the Pumpkin Eater, had a wife, but couldn’t keep her! Petyr, Petyr, the Pumpkin Eater, had a wife, but couldn’t keep her!... and near the bottom… Petyr, Petyr, the Pumpkin Eater, had a wife, but couldn’t keep her! _**NOW HE’S GOT TO KILL AND EAT HER**_!”

Sansa fled up to the front doors, where they kept their coats and boots. She quickly dressed Robyn and was putting on her own coat and hat when she heard behind her.

“Where ya going, honey? OUT? But you haven’t made me my DINNER YET!” Petyr said, his face a mask of mania. In his hands he held a wicked-looking fire axe!

Sansa screamed and grabbed Robyn by the hand and dragged him into the restroom. She locked the door and looked for the old rubber wedge the janitors used to keep the door open when there was a spill. She frantically kicked it under the door and kicked it again hard, to wedge it deeply.

“NOW, HONEY! IS THAT ANY WAY TO BEHAVE?” she heard thru the door as she pressed it closed. Robyn cowering behind her. “Your not being very wifely, you know! Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!” She heard him knock on the door, then he she heard him say, :Little pig! Little Pigs! Let me come in!” and there was a pause, and then she heard him again, “Not by the hair on your chinny-chin-chin?” He said, strangely.

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!” he chanted in a sing-song way he used to read the story to Robyn, as the axe blade slammed into the door, penetrating it with its edge by more than an inch!

She screamed! And the blade hit again! She screamed again and again the axe struck! “PETYR PLEASE! STOP!” she screamed. “NOOO!!!”

 

Just then a new voice was heard! “Robyn! Mrs. Baelish! It’s Nan! I heard Robyn calling me! I’m back!”

Sansa could not believe what she was hearing. “NAN! RUN!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She heard Old Nan say, “Mr Baelish? What’s going on? And then a scream cut short by a meaty thud. And the sound of a body falling.

 

“NO UNINVITED GUESTS FOR DINNER, HONEY!” she heard Petyr shout and then the axe bit into the door again. “Sansa? I’m home!” This time, Sansa could see blood on its edge. And she screamed. Knowing what it meant.

She ran to the bathroom window and tried to draw it up, but it froze less than halfway open. “You’ll have to go first, my brave Robyn! Run to the Snow Cat! I’m right behind you! She said lifting her son and pushing him through the opening. If I’m not there in five minutes, you hide in the Hedge Maze! And remember my trick with the tracks! Be clever! The Wolf will find you if you leave him a trail, right!”

“I remember, mommy! Come with me!” he pleaded.

“I can’t get through, Honey! It will be alright! Now GO!” She told him. “Run!”

Then she turned back to the door. The wedge was starting to work loose, so she rushed across the room and slid into the door, driving the wedge back again. A triangular piece of the door caved in and her husband’s crazed face stared down at her, distorted as he tried to press his face through…

“ **HERE’S PETEY**!” he said smiling. His teeth all showing as his cheeks were pulled back by the door edges. Splinters dug into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. His face pulled back and his arm reached into unlock the door. She screamed and slashed the back of his hand with the knife. The edge cut deeply and he screamed this time, pulling his arm back and running away.

She watched him flee back into the lobby and turn towards the kitchen. She hurriedly unlocked the door and kicked the wedge loose. She yanked the door open and ran for the front door. She stopped in shock.

Old Nan lay in the middle of the floor, her head split right down the middle, her eyes wide in shock. A pool of blood and brains forming above what remained of her head.

Sansa held back the scream forming in her throat and yanked the front door open. She ran to the Snow Cat, but the hood was open and snow had drifted inside.

“No, no no!” She whimpered. The nearest town was 25 miles away. Then she remembered Robyn. She looked around frantically, calling “Robyn! Where are you, baby? Come here, Robyn!” but there was no answer and the only tracks were hers. She looked to the window where she had pushed her son out and the tracks led back to the back of the building. “NO NO NO! NO, Robyn! WHY?”

 

Robyn ran around the building to the maze. _**Rickon had said to run, but not to run straight!**_ He heard Nan’s voice in his head, _**You must listen to your Shine, child!**_

He ran to the maze and turned left at every turn until he came to the dead-end with the fountain. He looked behind him at his tracks, clearly visible in the snow. He turned back to the fountain. The Statue in the center of the fountain was of a wolf, sitting and baying at the moon, In Season, there was a fountain of water that shot from the wolf’s mouth, but now there was only the snow and ice-covered pool, that he and his mother had found their first week here. Back then, before the snows they could see the bottom of the pool was a mosaic of moons in various phases and as the moon wanted in a clockwise circle, the water got deeper and deeper, so that the mosaic got dimmer and dimmer. This had been there favorite place to play and eat lunch while the weather held and he knew this piece of the maze better than any other. He leapt up on the edge of the fountain and began to kick the snow off the rim as he made his way around to face the wolf.

His mother had noticed it first, the slight gapping of the stone beneath the wolf’s front paws. Robyn stepped gingerly onto the ice over the the full moon and walked to the statue. He pressed on the third claw of the left paw, the seventh from left to right and a doorway popped open. He backed up to pull the heavy door open, revealing the hidden hatchway and ladder. It did Robyn no good. The pipes that fed the fountain had sprung a leak and the chamber beneath was half flooded and probably frozen solid by now. But Robyn wasn’t done. He pushed the door almost closed, but left an obvious gap in the doorway. Then he backed up in his own footsteps and jumped back onto the rim. There was a loud crack and a fissure appeared in the ice, running towards the deepest part of the fountain. Robyn walked back around to his original track and jumped backwards into his own footsteps. He then backtracked thru his own footprints until he was standing where he had entered. He looked closely for the gap in the hedge that he had used once to hide from his mommy, when they were playing hide and seek and leapt to it, dislodging some snow which fell hiding where he had landed. He moved deeper into the alcove and shook another branch load of snow, to cover his track better. He was satisfied. It probably wouldn’t fool his mommy, but it should fool his father!

  
Petyr ran from the bathroom and into the Gold Room, holding his maimed hand. The tendons on the back of his hand had been severed and his hand was an awkward fist. He set the axe on the bar and reached for the bottle of bourbon.

_“Women trouble?” Tywin asked, looking at his hand. And the trail of blood he had tracked into the bar. Raising his eyebrow._

_“I guess you could say that, yeah!” Petyr said, taking a long pull of the whiskey. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”_

_“Well, we certainly hope so!” Tywin said, nodding to something behind Petyr. Petyr turned and his mouth hung open. The bar was full of people and beyond he could see the ballroom full of dancers. And among them was the redhead. She smiled and waved at him and licked her lips.“You had better get things settled, before the party is over, hadn’t you?”_

_“I guess SO!” He said, pissily, picking up the bottle and headed to the kitchen._

_“You forget something?” Tywin said, looking significantly at the axe._

_“Oh, right!” He said, setting the bottle back on the bar, prying his damaged fingers open and put the neck of the bottle in his damaged fist. He found he could hold the bottle and smiled. Then picked up the axe with his right hand._ And walked across the Lobby to the Kitchens. As he was walking across, he saw the boy run into the maze and he smiled a predatory smile. “Daddy’s coming, son! Just let me fix up my HAND, FIRST!”

  
He bandaged his left hand with a washcloth and towel, tying it off with his teeth. “Okay! SHOWTIME!” He said, pulling a long swig from the whisky for warmth and heading for the back door. The snow was already starting to fall as he entered the Maze, but his sons tracks were still easy to follow.He followed his sons steps, always going to the left. “Not very IMAGINATIVE, are you, son?” he said, his hand bleeding thru the towel and staining the snow.

When he came to the dead-end, he smiled. “End of the line, ROBBY-boy!” He said, walking around the fountain. He noticed the footprints leading up to the fountain and the snow kicked off the ledge. The snowfall had covered the surface of the pool and the rim of the fountain, but it was obvious someone had cleaned off a portion of it. Petyr jumped up onto the rim and walked around the rim. He looked at the statue and smiled, noting the gap at the secret door. “Not bad, son, but you got a little SLOPPY!” He said,cocking his head to one side. “If you had been more careful, you might have gotten away with it! But you just aren’t CAREFUL ENOUGH! JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER!” he shouted. And he jumped down onto the ice, which cracked and gave way beneath him, spilling to his right, into the deepest part of the pool.

His breath caught as his head went under the frigid water. He floundered and he hit his head on the bottom of the ice before he could find the gap where he’d fallen in. Petyr surfaced and sucked air, sputtering. He slapped the axe onto the rim of the fountain and started to pull himself out of the water. He heard a scream and saw his son emerge from the hedge near where they had entered.

“YOU! You CLEVER little SHIT! You’ll pay for this!” The boy screamed and ran. Petyr struggled to get out of the water with limbs that weren’t working right.

  
Robyn ran in terror. “ _ **That’s not your daddy anymore!**_ ” he heard Rickon's voice in his head. “ _ **It’s MINE**_!”

  
Robyn ran. Left, left, left, left, then he was in the center of the maze. The snow was falling heavily now and it was getting harder to see. He ran around the planter in the center three times, the Topiary Dragon in the center being blunted by snow, until it looked like it was made of ice. He ran to the edge of every entrance and then backtracked back to the center. He went back to the way the dragon faced, South and took the opening to its right, then took every turn to the right moving out. The secret to the Maze, he and his mother discovered.

“ _ **That’s right child! if you always make the Right Decision, you can never go wrong!**_ ” Robyn heard Old Nan say.

He made his way right out of the maze, he turned what he thought was the last turn and slammed into a grown up's legs and was thrown back into the snow by the impact. He saw stars and tried to clear the snow from his eyes as strong hands lifted him up out of the snow…

“Oh, Robyn!” Sansa whispered fiercely. “Come on! Let’s get out of here! We can take poor Nan’s Snow Cat!” and she carried him out of the Maze to the waiting vehicle. She turned the key and the engine sputtered for a moment before catching, She sighed in relief and drove the Cat out of the yard and down the road.

 

Petyr shivered fiercely as he followed his son’s tracks through the snow that was falling harder now and ice had started forming in his beard and his soaked outer clothing. He thought. “I just have to find the brat and his mother!” he mumbled to himself. He came to the center of the Maze and his son's tracks seemed to join dozens of others. “What the fuck?” He mumbled, turning about, confused. “How many kids are there in here?” He was cold and tired and hurting. He just needed a rest. He dropped the axe and sat against the edge of the planter to shelter against the wind and hugged himself. “Just a little rest.” He said, holding perfectly still.

 

  
_And that’s how they found his frozen body weeks later, eyes staring up and to the left, and a strange grin on his face, when the snows cleared enough for the Sheriff to come up..._


	15. Jon Ygritte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy will be boys, even when they are Lost.

 

 

Jon/Ygritte

The Lost Boys

Jon felt lost. He was changing, and not for the better. The Hunger was growing and the pain was unbearable. His little brother and his friends were trying to help, he thought, although the Reeds seemed more interested in putting a stake through his heart than really helping him and Ygritte and Olly.

“They’ll be coming for me and Olly.” Ygritte said, sadly.

“They’ll be coming for all of us!” Jon responded curtly.

“What do we do?” Bran asked, frightened. The Reeds and Bran had gone with him to retrieve Ygritte and Olly, and while they were there, one of them staked Rattleshirt. “The Lord of Bones” had died ugly. Blood shooting out of his body in impossible fountains. He and the others had gorged on the Surf Nazis that night and he spewed every drop of their blood onto the Reeds. They had barely made their escape into sunlight from Styr’s revenge for killing one of his “boys”.

But now the sun was down and they would be coming.

The Reeds had come prepared, They had a bow and arrows, numerous stakes, and cloves of garlic, jugs of Holy Water and squirt guns to deliver it at distance. “Okay, “ Jojen said, “When a Vampire buys it, it is never the same.”

“Some go quiet and others explode.” Meera said, over intently.

“The point is, they will try to take you with them! So be ready!” Jojen finished for her.

It would probably all be useless against Styr and his crew, Jon knew. He had seen them kill at the Surf Nazi’s bonfire. He knew what they were capable of doing. Three full Vampires against Jon, who was only Half Vampire until he made his first kill, like Ygritte and Olly. And that was their only real hope. If they could somehow kill The Thenn, then that would free Ygritte and Olly and himself from becoming Vampires.Their Curse would be lifted.

The wind began to whistle around the house and they all looked about in fright. Ygritte and Olly were weak, they had been turned days before Jon and had refused to feed, they had little time left before it would no longer be a choice. “Get them upstairs!” Jon yelled at the Reeds and Jojen carried Olly, while Meera ushered Ygritte up the stairs. They had barely closed the door to Jon’s room when the fire in the fireplace exploded outward and a figure covered in soot flew into the room, followed by a second and then a third. The house was plunged into darkness as one of the boys used the overhead chandelier as a trapeze to slam his feet into Jon, sending him sprawling. Bran screamed and tried to run, but The Weeper picked him up by his collar and lifted him into the rafters.

Bran could barely keep from vomiting at the smell of death and decay on the Vampire’s breath and the horrific demonic face, with its golden eyes and slavering fangs glistening before him.

“I’m gonna enjoy tearing your throat out, for what you did to Rattleshirt!” he said, licking his fangs.

“Yeah?” Bran choked out defiantly, “Well we’re gonna do the same to you, ass-breath!” and he raised his squirt gun full of Holy Water and squirted it into the Vampires face. He screamed as the vampire screamed and dropped him twelve feet to the floor and clutched his face. Bran landed hard on the floor, but was luckily uninjured. He lunged for the bow and arrows and then rolled to the floor next to Jon, who lay unconscious, “Jon! Jon! Wake UP!” He shouted to no avail.

“Your brother can’t help you, boy.” Bran heard from the rafters. He turned on a fallen lamp-stand laying next to him and used it like a flashlight to scan the room. The light glinted of the the Vampires eyes where he sat among the rafters of his Nan’s cabin style home. The vampire swooped down and Bran got off a quick shot with the bow and the Vampire crashed to the ground, but when Bran kicked the lamp so it rolled its light in that direction, he stood up, grinning evilly. “You missed!”

“Maybe once, creep-face, but not twice!” He pulled back the bow and took careful aim, just like he had in his archery classes at school and let fly.

The arrow struck true, just left of the sternum, between the fourth and fifth ribs. The Vampire screamed and fell back into Old Nan’s huge stereo system. The metal hunting tip on the wooden shaft pierced the console and the Vampire, already going thru the agony of being staked was immediately electrocuted. Electricity surged through his body and his screams became more agonized, his muscles twitching and electric sparks flying. Electricity arced across his already seared face and he threw back his head. His head vibrated and smoked and then his limbs flew off as his head exploded. The smoking torso fell to the floor.

“Death by stereo!” Bran said, smiling triumphantly.

 

Meanwhile, upstairs, the Reeds had ushered Ygritte and Olly into the first bedroom they came to. Olly was grabbed by Meera while Jojen pulled out a stake. “Better to stake them now, just to be sure!” he shouted.

Ygritte screamed and pushed him away, yanking Olly out of Meera’s grasp and running through the bathroom and its tub full of Holy Water and garlic and into the adjoining bedroom. They ran for the door in the far corner when it slammed shut as The Weeper stood there. His wild, overly hair-sprayed hair rising out like a mane. “You’re the ones who killed The Lord of Bones!” He said, stepping forward without fear. Olly and Ygritte cowered in a corner. He turned to them, and growled, “We’ll deal with you later! But first, I’m gonna have a little fun!” and he walked towards the Reeds.

Meera tried to raise her squirt gun, but he just swatted it away. He did the same when Jojen tried to raise a stake. “You killed Rattleshirt!” He yelled into their faces. The Reeds backed into the bathroom as he followed them slowly. Meera looked down at the bathtub, the garlic cloves floating in the water, their smell permeating the room.

“Yeah!” said Jojen defiantly, “And you’re next!”

“No, you’re next! Garlic doesn’t work, girly!” He said, grabbing Jojen by the throat. “Heh heh, i’m going to enjoy this!” He said bending towards Jojen’s throat...

“How about Holy Water, Death Breath?” She shouted, scooping a double-handful and splashing it onto his face.

He let go of Jojen and Meera pulled him back as The Weeper screamed and smoke poured between the fingers he had thrown up in front of his face. When he stopped screaming, he dropped his hands. His face was a melted horror. But he looked at the Reeds and snarled, baring his fangs. The Reeds fell to the floor screaming. “I’m gonna tear you to shreds and then those traitors in there!” He screamed at them. They screamed louder.

Then Ygritte rushed in. “No you won’t!” she screamed and pushed him into the tub, which began to boil. The Weeper began to scream, his skin to smoke and dissolve. He screamed and tried to claw his way out of the tub, but his limbs did not work properly. He sank beneath the surface and Jojen and Meera stopped screaming, looking up at Ygritte, who had saved them,

Then the water fountained up and the half dissolved body of The Weeper swept up out of the water, unable to even scream anymore and everyone else screamed. Then the body sank into the water again and it fountained out gouts of dissolved Vampire and blood! The sink started to fountain blood, the toilet too, the pipes ruptured and sprayed it everywhere. They were all covered in gory goo! They rushed from the bathroom and closed the door! Ygritte and Olly hid while the Reeds composed themselves. Jojen picked up the squirt gun he had lost earlier and Meera got hers in her hand. They waited at either side of the door.

Bran crept into the room, his eyes wide with fear. Suddenly, two figures leap from the darkness and he was squirted in the face with cold, garlic-smelling water! The Reeds threatened him with their squirt guns until they realized who it was. Jojen grabbed him by the shirt and started to cheer at seeing his ally alive, when Bran shushed him. “Shhh! I just killed one of them downstairs with a bow and arrow!”

“Way to go Branno!” Jojen said in a whisper! “We killed the Twisted Sister-looking one!

“We totally annihilated his night stalking ass!” Meera said, smiling in triumph.

“Well, that chick, Ygritte, helped a little…” Jojen admitted

“Death to all Vampires!” Bran whispered.

“Maximum body count!” Meera whispered back.

“We are awesome monster bashers!” Jojen said quietly.

“The meanest!” Meera said back. Looking her brother in the eye with something more than battle lust…

“The baddest!” Jojen replied, grasping Bran’s hand by the thumb as Meera laid her hand on top, and they all made horns with their fingers of their free hands, spontaneously!

Just then the bed in front of where they huddled exploded and out of the waving shreds of bedding stood Olly! He had begun to turn, his eyes a golden color and his face distorted into a Demon’s grimace, his fangs glistening as he screamed.

The boys and Meera fell back, as Olly leapt over them to put his back in the corner, his head darting in confusion.

“Holy shit! It’s the attack of Eddie Munster!” Meera screamed to Bran and her brother.

“Get him!” Jojen shouted and they all stood up to rush him, but Ygritte leapt from the closet and blocked their path.

“Stop! Don’t you touch him! You just stay away!” She shouted, he hands in front of her with her fingers outstretched, but she had not turned yet. “He’s just a little boy and he’s scared!” She pleaded with them. Olly belied her words by lunging at them beneath her arm, and snarling, but she restrained him. They heard a commotion downstairs and they all crept to the doorway to watch.

  
Jon awoke after Bran left him lying there in the dark. He stood, dazed and confused, trying to get his bearings, when there was a rush of wind and someone punched him in the face. He stumbled, and recovered, but as he stood up again, there was the rushing wind again and long nails like claws raked his neck and face. There was laughter from the rafters and Jon scanned them as best he could in the darkness. “Afraid to face me, Styr?” He called up, as the laughter began again and then stopped. As the kids peaked out the door, it backlit Styr and cast his shadow on the far wall. Then out of the darkness, his glowing yellow eyes reflected the lamplight.

“I tried to make you immortal, Jon. I tried to make you one of us!” He said, crouching on the rafter beam.

“YOU TRIED TO MAKE ME A KILLER!” Jon screamed, as Styr The Thenn ran along the walls and leapt at him, kicking him in the face and knocking him to the floor.

Styr laughed again as Jon struggled to rise. But his laugh coughed off as Jon turned and his face was like Styr’s, his golden eyes shining back at him. “You ARE a KILLER!” he whispered.

Jon licked his fangs and stared hatred at The Thenn. Styr chuckled and they both growled and leapt for each other, their hands meeting as they spun in midair, floating and snarling at each other, struggling for supremacy. Finally Jon Pushed Styr towards the far wall and Old Nan’s collection of Deer heads she had taxidermied. Their antlers sharp and spelling doom to any Vampire impaled on them. Jon PUSHED with his power of flight, driving Styr towards his doom, but Styr had more experience and moved himself to land in the one clear space big enough for him, thudding against the wall.

He smiled, viciously. “My turn!” He said, pushing Jon back the other way towards Nan’s work room. On the table was the skull of a dragon she had picked up at a Flea Market and was trying to refurbish. It was a small one, but it had had long, fearsome horns that jutted out from the table like spear-points. Jon was only able to save himself by grabbing the lintel as the passed through the the doorway. Their progress stopped abruptly, but Styr continued to PUSH. “Stop fighting me, Jon! I don’t want to kill you! Jon, join us!”

“NEVER!” Jon snarled defiantly.

“It’s too late! My blood is in your veins! We can be brothers!” Styr said, easing his pressure just a hairsbreadth, but Jon seized on it and twisted.

He looked in the Thenn’s face and sneered, “SO IS MINE! And I already HAVE A BROTHER!” he screamed and threw Styr onto the table, driving the horns through his chest.

Styr grasped the horn with both hands, “No!” He screamed in denial and shock “Please!” and a light seemed to seep from his skin, like sunlight, it made his skin smoke, Jon could smell the unmistakable smell of burning human flesh and squinted his eyes, but when the light faded, the Thenn was laying on the table, every scar and mark and sign that he had ever been anything but a young man were gone. Jon looked in shock. Guilt for what he had done eating at him. Now he WAS a Killer! But with Styr dead, he should have returned to normal, but he felt no different. The Hunger was still there!

Ygritte ran into the room and Jon grabbed her, using her to shield him from the other’s view. “Stay back!” She shouted.

“Jon?” Brain said, stopping at the foot of the stairs, “but you killed the head Vampire!”

“Nothing has changed!” Jon said, quivering.

“There must have been another, but we missed him!” Jojen shouted.

Just then, headlights shown thru the front windows.

“It’s Sansa or Nan! Quick, cover the bodies!” Bran shouted.

Two car doors were heard and there were hurried footsteps on the front porch. The door opened and Sansa and her boss, Tormund, stepped in. “What’s been going on here!?!” Sansa asked, in amazement, her eyes wide and trying to take in all the damage that had been done to the cabin, “What happened here?”

“Sans, “ Bran said, quickly. “We are going to have to have a long, deep conversation…”

Tormund surveyed the damage appraisingly, he walked into the workroom without even glancing at Ygritte and Jon. He turned Styr’s face to the lamplight gingerly with a look of deep sadness on his face. He turned and walked back into the living room where Bran was still trying to explain it all to his sister. “I’m afraid this is all my fault!” He said, looking around and then locking eyes with Sansa.

“What?” Sansa said, confused even further. “What are you saying, Tormund?”

“I never intended for any of this to happen, Sansa.”He said, sadly “But it was always YOU, Sansa. You were the point of all this. My boys just got a little out of hand. I told you, boys needed discipline and a firm woman’s hand, tempered with kindness, and you are all those things, Sansa. You are tall and fine and your hair is like fire and sunlight, like mine I can never see again in a mirror. I knew if I could turn Jon and Bran that you would join me. Your boys and mine, in one big happy family!” He said, turning away and then turning back, his face contorted into the Demon’s snarl.

“What? How? What ARE YOU?” Sansa screamed falling back in fright.

“Yeah, the blood-sucking Brady Bunch!” Jojen said in disgust.

“But how?” Meera asked, “You passed all the tests!”

“Yeah,” said, Jojen “how did you do that?”

“I was invited in, silly boy!” Tormund smiled. “Didn’t you know that if you invite a Vampire in, it renders you powerless against him?” He asked, amused.

“Did you know about this?” Bran asked Jojen, who ducked his head a moment.

“Of course!” he growled, “Everyone knows that!”

“Well I didn’t invite you in this time!” Jon snarled from the shadows of the workroom doorway and he rushed at Tormund, who snarled and turned to rush him. Jon lunged with his claws at Tormund’s throat, but Tormund grasped his wrists and threw him up through the balcony rail, hitting his head on a beam.

The Reeds rushed him and he batted them away, negligently. Ygritte screamed at seeing Jon hurt and rushed him with a pool cue. He pulled it from her hands and swatted her across the room as easily as he had the Reeds.

Bran screamed “Stay AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” And rushed Tormund, who easily overpowered him and then laid his claws along his throat.

“What do you say, Sansa? Stop fighting and come willingly. It’s so much better, if you don’t fight!”

Sansa, weeping, stared at Bran’s face, her responsibility since their parent’s death. He needed her and she could not abandon him, no matter how afraid she was. She took Tormund’s outstretched claw and he drew her in to bite her throat, when a ridiculous car horn, playing a failing “La Cucaracha” could be heard and then tail lights and backing lights lit the front porch as Old Nan’s Utility truck she had been using to replace fence posts came crashing through the front door. Sharpened poles flew out from the open bed into the room.

Upon hearing the horn, Jon’s eyes flew open and he leaped down, grabbing Sansa and Bran by their collars and kicking Tormund into the path of one of the flying posts and pulling his siblings out of the path of the rest.

The sharpened post took Tormund right in the chest. He screamed and grasped the shaft as its momentum drove him into the ruined fireplace and he exploded. A huge fireball shot from the fireplace and Jon tried to shield them with his body. Then smoke and soot flooded the room and they were all covered in it. Ygritte stood and rushed to Jon, who held her, his face returned to normal. The Reeds woke up and hugged each other in joy. Sansa hugged Bran to her chest and he hugged her back. From the top of the stairs, Olly came running out. “Ygritte!” He shouted, and ran down the stair to jump into her arms. She held him tightly. They all looked around at each other, dumbfounded that they had managed to not only survive, but WIN!

Just then, the remnants of the front door fell in and an old woman walked in. Without a word, she went to the fridge and popped open a Dr. Pepper bottle with an opener on the side of the fridge.

“Nan?” Sansa asked, “Are you alright?” All their faces lit by the light from the fridge door being open.

“The one thing I always hated about this place was all the damn Vampires everywhere!” Old Nan said with satisfaction.

The fridge door closed. Pitching them all back into darkness, but the harmless kind, and they all laughed. 


	16. Cersei/Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things aren't as they seem.

**Cersei/Jaime**

**The Others**

Cersei was frantic, the Keep was awash with ghosts and there was nothing she could do. She had kept her children safe thru all the wars and now she was helpless.

“Mother!” Myrcella said, “I can’t find Tommen!” She sounded frightened.

“Have you been teasing him again?” Cersei asked, calling down the hallway to her.

“No, but Joffrey has!” Myrcella called back from the Music Room.

Cersei stood and walked quickly down the hall to the music Room. There was Myrcella, reading by firelight from the fireplace she warmed her feet by.

“Well, where’s Joffrey then? “ She asked her daughter.

“I think he’s in the Playroom, upstairs. Playing with Viktor!” She said.

“With 'Viktor'?” Cersei said, eyes wide, “The Ghost?”

“Joffrey! “ she shouted, “Come here at once!”

“Yes mother?” Joffrey said, leaning over the rail. “Is there something wrong?”

“What are you up to up there? And where is your brother?” She said, trying to calm herself. But yelling across the living quarters wasn’t helping.

“I’m talking with Viktor, mother. And Tommen was in his rooms, the last I saw of him.” Joffrey replied. “Why?”

“WHY?!?” Cersei screamed in amazement. “YOU ARE SPEAKING WITH A GHOST!”

“Well, I guess so, but it’s quite alright. He seems a decent fellow and he’s quite curious about us!”

“That is quite enough!” Cersei said, stomping her foot. “Enough, do you hear! I will summon the Septum to banish these ghosts, do you hear?”

And she put on her coat and walked out of the keep. She walked down the deserted streets of King’s Landing, down between the rows of trees that lined the road to the Plaza and then on across the city to the Great Sept of Baelor, but as she made her way through the town, a strange fog started to build, and by the time she had reached what should have been the end of the trees, the fog was so thick she could barely see her hand in front of her face. It was so thick, in fact, that she could not see the houses and shops on either side of the street, and each way she turned, it seemed she only found cobblestone beneath her feet, not even the curb or the gutter. She became disoriented and disturbed. She began to become frightened when even running never brought her to an object she could identify as part of a wall or intersection. She began to weep in frustration. And then she heard the clip-clop of horse’s hooves ahead of her. She peered into the fog as the shape of a man leading a horse stepped out of the fog.

She would know him anywhere. She had memorized every line and curve, every hair in his head since they were little children. He often joked she had done it in the womb. “Jaime!” She cried and ran towards him. He stood still and let her come to him. She threw her arms around him and he awkwardly embraced her. He looked tired. Weary to the bone, it seemed. “Oh Jaime, you’re home at last!”

“Am I?” He asked wearily. “This place seems strange!”

“They said you must be dead!” she said, kissing him. “You’ve been gone so long!”

“Have I?” Jaime asked, confused. “It took as long as it took, I suppose!”

“The children will be overjoyed to see you!” Cersei said into his shoulder. “Oh, Jaime! It’s been so hard without you!”

“The Children?”Jaime asked dully.

“Yes, we have all been waiting, hoping for the day you would return!” She said, pulling him back the way she had come, apparently. Since he had come from the Kingsroad, the opposite direction had to lead back to the keep. His horse followed along tiredly.

The closer they got to the Red Keep, the thinner the fog became until they stepped out of it altogether. The main gates stood open and they walked right thru. Jaime stared at the open gates in bewilderment. “That’s a stupid thing to do in a time of war! “ He mumbled.

“Oh Jaime the war has been over for years! “ Cersei said, “Where HAVE you been?”

“Out of it, apparently.” He said, looking at Cersei as if seeing her for the first time. “You grew your hair back out.” He said, looking at her long golden locks.

Cersei ran her fingers thru her hair. “Do you like it?” She said, “Long hair is not very practical. But I remember you loved playing with my hair, even as children.”

“Yes, I remember that.” he said, staring at her face as if looking at a stranger’s. “I do like it better long.”

“I’m afraid the Keep is a bit of a mess. The Servants all left one day, without saying a word. I have three new ones, but they seem barely adequate.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Jaime said, absently.

Before them stood three Golden Children. Joffrey stood straight and tall, almost a man, grown now. His petulant mouth turned up in a smile. Beside him, his younger brother Tommen seemed almost as tall and even straighter of posture. And next to him, was his little angel, pale, beautiful Myrcella. It was Myrcella who spoke first. “Hello Father! Welcome home!”

While at almost the same moment, Joffrey stepped forward and said, “Welcome home, Uncle!” Then a confused look crossed his face at Myrcella’s words. He turned to her. “What did you say?”

“He’s our father, Joff.” She said, slowly. “Hadn’t you figured it out?” she replied with just a little disdain.

“No he’s not! He’s our Uncle!” Joffrey replied angrily, not liking her tone.

“You really were always a bit slow, Joff” Tommen said. “I know I’m thick, but even I figured it out after Myrcella pointed some things out to me!” He winked at his sister.

Myrcella smiled shyly.

“You’ve both gone mad!” Joffrey said petulantly, “Mother, tell them they’ve gone mad!”

“Joffrey…” Cersei tried to be delicate.

“And don’t take that tone with us, Joff! You’re not King of anything anymore!” Tommen replied with more maturity than Jaime expected.

“Mother!” Joffrey said, whining.

“Enough!” Cersei said, angrily. “He is your father, your true born father, not that drunken lout you called 'father'!”  
“I’m whatever you want me to be, Joffrey.” Jaime said, gently. “And the same goes for all of you!” looking at each child in turn.

Myrcella rushed forward to hug him and Tommen was not far behind her. Joffrey hung back, looking confused. Cersei went to hug him, but he pushed her away and ran. Jaime watched him go sadly.

Cersei was torn, but chose to run after him, “Joffrey! Wait!” She called after him.

He ran to the Throne Room and the Great hall looked a ruin. There was a section of roof and wall missing in the corner to the left of the throne, as one sat on it. Joffrey ran to the rusting hulk at the top of the dais and sat, weeping. Cersei found him there. And walked to the foot of the dais.

“How is this possible, Mother?” Joffrey asked, his eyes red rimmed and swollen.

“It happened. Your father and I loved one another since before we were born. We are one. We always have been. When I married Robert, that didn’t change anything!” Cersei said, honestly. “You were born out of love of my brother and I. Not that fat, drunken whorer,” She almost spat.

“So I AM a bastard? As Everyone said?” Joffrey sniffed loudly.

“NO! You are a KING! Born of the Lannister’s! You were meant to bring the dynasty that should have been! My Father took King’s Landing and your father killed The Mad King, not Robert or Ned Stark! Lannisters won Robert’s Rebellion! It should have been ours to begin with, but they didn’t have the courage!” Cersei said, indicating the throne.

“So I’m a bastard AND a monster born of incest?” Joffrey said, ignoring her rant.

“Incest is for commons! We are LANNISTER’S!” she shouted at him, trying to get him to hear her. “The Lion does not care for the opinions of the Sheep! Like the Targaryens, we should join our own, to make us stronger!”

“So why didn’t you have me marry Myrcella, then?” Joffrey asked with a sneer.

“We were at war! We needed alliances to make us strong!” Cersei said, defensively.

“But I thought you said we didn’t need anyone else. Which is it, mother?” Joffrey said, petulantly.

  
“I was King!” Joffrey screamed at her, “But what am I now? Huh?”

“You’re my son!” Cersei said, through her tears.  
“Well at least THAT is true, I suppose, but you could have lied about that too!” He said, cruelly. “You lied about so many other things! LEAVE ME!”

“Joffrey, please!” Cersei said, weeping,

“I SAID LEAVE!” Joffrey screamed, spittle shooting from his mouth, his face turning purple, he grasped his throat and tried to breath, but no sound came out. He stood up from the throne and looked about in fear and collapsed.

Cersei rushed to his side, screaming for Jaime. Joffrey’s eyes searched and met hers. His face turned black and all the blood vessels in his eyes burst, turning them red. “NOOOOOOooooo!” Cersei screamed.

Later, she staggered from the Throne Room and made her way back to the residence quarters and found Jaime and Myrcella and Tommen laughing and chatting together. Her tear streaked face hung slack with shock and her mouth hung open at the sight.

“Didn’t you hear me call you?” She said, numbly to Jaime. “Didn’t you hear me scream as our son died?

Jaime looked up from his children and his smile faded as he saw the look on her face. “What?!?” Jaime said, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Joffrey is dead, Jaime! And you weren’t even there! You didn’t come to save your son! Why?” She shouted at him.

The children sat in shock, tears filling Myrcella’s eyes. Tommen just staring. Jaime stood up and went to her and held her while she beat his chest and wept. “When did this happen?” Jaime asked the top of her head, “Where?”

“In the Throne Room. “ Cersei said between sobs “We were talking, I was trying to explain. About us, about him. And he screamed at me to leave and then he started to choke...And he died, OH JAIME! OUR SON DIED IN MY ARMS, again…”

“It’s alright.” Jaime crooned. “Let the tears come. They will ease your pain.” and she buried her face in his shoulders and wept again.

The children stood and hugged them both, staring into each other’s eyes.

When her weeping had run its course, Jaime took them all to the Throne Room to get Joffrey, but when they entered the room, it was empty. Cersei looked around in bewilderment as the others stood watching sadly.

“I don’t understand! He was right here!” She shouted, indicating a spot on the floor before the throne. But there was nothing.

“Perhaps you had a nightmare?” Jaime suggested. “You went to look for him and couldn’t find him and sat to take a rest and had a nightmare? Gods know that chair is haunted enough!”

“No! It was real!” Cersei insisted. “He was lying right here! With his face turned black and his eyes red!”

“Well he’s not here now.” Jaime said patiently.

“Don’t you patronize me!” Cersei shouted. “I know what I saw!”

“I’m just saying, he’s not here, now.” Jaime said, holding up his hands. “Do you want to search for him? We can all do it together, so everyone sees the same things…”

“You DO think i’m lying!” She screamed at him.

“No, I believe you saw what you said you saw, Cersei.” Jaime said, sadly. “Come, let’s look for him!” He said, holding out his left hand to her.

She stepped forward, cautiously and took his hand, while Tommen took her other and Myrcella tucked her arm into the crook of her father’s elbow. And together they walked deserted halls, searching for signs of Joffrey. But they found nothing.

That night, after the children were put to bed they lay in their own bed. They had made love for hours, as if it was the first time, or the last. Cersei starting out angry and using the pleasure to drown out the pain, but later the simple joy of joining her flesh to her other half overrode all other considerations. When they were together, they knew how to please each other without needing to express it and Jaime proved he was still the man who could take her where no one else could.

Later, as they lay together, covered in sweat and completely spent. They both stared at the ceiling.

“I will have to be going tomorrow.” Jaime said. “I need to get to the War.”

“What are you talking about?” Cersei said, propping herself up on one elbow to look at his face. “You only just got back! And the war has been over for years! You abandoned me and the children for your filthy WAR!” She said, hotly.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you, Cersei. I really am.” He said, sadly “I never meant for it to happen, but it was the only way. You had to be stopped. Your blind need for revenge and ambition threatened us all!”

“What are you talking about?” Cersei said, confused.

“I think I am taking Myrcella with me. Tommen want to stay with you a bit longer, but he’s almost ready, too.” Jaime replied. “I may come back for him, later.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Cersei said, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“But you and Joff aren’t ready. I’m not sure you ever will be.”Jaime said sadly, looking into her eyes, and staring at her face as if memorizing it. “I think I will try to remember you like this from now on. Puzzled and a little vulnerable. It’s better than the old way.”

“You are insane!” She shouted,”and you are not taking Myrcella from me!”

“I’m not ‘taking’ anyone, my dearest sister and lover, she is just ready to move on.” He said patiently, trying to get her to hear. “You are the ones keeping you here, now.”

She turned away from him and went to sleep weeping, resolved to make him see sense in the morning.

But when she woke up the next day, her bed was empty like he had never been there and when she went to wake Myrcella, she was gone too. She ran to Joffrey’s room, thinking his sister may have gone there to grieve, but to her shock, she found Joffrey sprawled in his bed, snoring.

Tommen came in, rubbing his eyes. “What’s all the commotion?” he said.

“Where are your father and sister?” Cersei shouted at him.

“Why, they left mother. Father said they were. Don’t you remember?” Tommen said sadly.

“No! He couldn’t take her! He wouldn’t!” she screamed.

“He didn’t mother! I was there!” Tommen replied. “He asked if I wanted to go, too, but I decided to stay. You need more time, and so do I. What you did… I’m not ready to forgive you or myself.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish, if you ask me!” Joffrey said, rolling back over and covering his head with his covers.

Cersei just stared at Tommen in shock. What she did? What HE did? Then the memories came back, all of them. And she realized it wasn’t those “ghosts” who haunted The Ruins of The Red Keep.

It was her. And her children...


	17. Sansa/Arya - Ginger Snaps

**Sansa/Arya**

  
**Ginger Snaps**

 

Arya and Theon backed the van into the garage. The sounds in the back had gone quiet. Arya came around the back stared at the broken handle of the back door of the van.

“Damn! I meant to get that fixed!” Theon said, looking at the ruined handle himself. “I don’t hear her anymore.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Arya said, trying to peer into the back windows. She could see nothing in the shadows of the back of the utility van.

“Hand me that flashlight, would you?” Theon asked, indicating the flashlight charging on the wall next to the light switch. Arya reached over and handed it to him. He turned it on and shined the beam into the back of the van. They both leaned close to see and there was a flash of pale skin and blue eyes and teeth and then the doors burst open flinging Arya back and to the side and Theon slamming into the storage cabinets next to the door from the garage into the house.

Arya lay stunned and out of breath for a minute or two, trying to recover from the impact. She fought to breath and get her legs beneath her, but her whole body protested. She had to find the monkshood, so she could make more cure. It had worked on Ramsay, it had to be able to help Sansa!

She finally managed to stand and staggered over to Theon. “Wake up!” She whispered, shaking him. “We have to move!”

Theon’s eyes snapped open in bewilderment and there was fear in his eyes as he looked around without really seeing until the moment of panic faded and he focused on Arya. “What happened?” He said aloud.

“Shh!” Arya hushed him, “She’s in the house! The monkshood is in there! We have to get it and make more cure!” Theon nodded and tried to stand. Arya helped him to his feet. “Can you move?”

“I’d damn well better!” Theon replied, his eyes still wide with fright.

Arya nodded and they stepped into the doorway together. They could hear growling and movement, deeper into the house and then jumped when something broke. Dishes, or a vase, knocked over by Sansa, who was the much larger now than she had been in human form.  
“What is she doing?” Theon asked Arya,

“I have no idea!” Arya replied. “How should i know?”

“I dunno! You’re her sister!” Theon replied.

Arya tried to calm herself and tried to think like her sister. They had gotten closer as they got older and Arya had always been able to almost finish her sentences in the past few years. She tried to slow her heartbeat and feel what her sister wanted. What would I want, if I had suddenly turned into wolf? She thought to herself.

“She’s probably in the kitchen, looking for something to eat!” The monkshood is in my mother’s craft room!” Theon nodded and followed her as she moved in that direction. They found the craft table tipped over and the dried flowers strewn across the floor. Arya felt around a little until her hands found the dried stalks of purple blossoms. “I’ve got it!” Now we need to find a way to get to the pantry! To get the others things we need!” Theon nodded and ushered her over to the door to the kitchen hallway, then he picked a picture off the wall and threw it where they had been crouching behind the table.

There was a crash and a pause in the kitchen and then the sound of scrabbling claws and the swinging door from the kitchen to the dining room slammed open as Sansa rushed in, snarling.  
Theon and Arya rushed into the kitchen at the same time and Arya quickly laid a stool between the swinging door and the center island, preventing the door from swinging in again. It would buy them a few seconds, if Sansa tried to come at them that way. They yanked open cabinets and grabbed a metal measuring spoon, a bowl and a spoon. When they heard sniffing and growling from the other room, and something slammed into the swinging door and there was a thump on the other side, as if the impact had dazed her or something.

“COME ON! IN HERE!” She shouted, pulling Theon into the Pantry and locking the door. It was the de facto “safe room” in the house, it was a fairly large closet space with shelves from floor to ceiling on three walls and a heavy oak door with a heavy lock and bolt on the inside. Arya shined a flashlight she grabbed from the charger on the wall and pointed to a bottle of isopropyl rubbing alcohol on the top shelf. “Alcohol!” she whispered and he looked where the light was shining and grabbed the bottle. They sat together on the floor and pulled the buds off the monkshood and put them into the bowl, then crushed them with the spoon.. They then poured in the alcohol and mixed it, then poured part of it into the metal measuring spoon.

“Do you still have your lighter?” Theon asked nervously.

SLAM! Something crashed into the door and and the walls shook. Theon started and spilled some of the contents from the spoon.

“Careful!” Arya admonished him. “She can’t get in here!”  
SLAM! As something heavy again smashed into the door. There were the sounds of claws scrabbling for purchase on the heavily lacquered door. Theon looked at Arya for reassurance and she nodded, pulling the lighter from her pocket. She flipped it open and lit it, holding the flame under the spoon in Theon’s shaking hands. The sounds abated outside as the contents of the spoon boiled. Theon opened a tampon package Arya handed him from her purse as she put away the lighter. “Really fucking sanitary!” He said, dropping a piece of the cottony interior into the spoon. Arya picked up the syringe and pressed the needle’s point into the cotton and started drawing out a syringeful of the liquid. It was more than she gave Ramsay, but from the glimpse she had gotten of what Sansa was now, she weighed more than him by quite a few pounds.

The silence outside was more frightening than the slamming had been. “Do you think she’s still out there?” Theon asked.

“There’s only one way to find out and we have to get this to her before she gets out and hurts anyone else!” Arya replied.

Theon nodded and picked up a mop handle to use as a weapon. He nodded again and stood by the door frame to look out when Arya opened the door. Arya carefully reached down and undid the bolt and unlocked the door. She turned the handle, and opened the door ever...so...gently…

A body slammed into the door, throwing her back. The door rebounded from the impact with Arya and flew open. Theon’s eyes had a moment to widen in fear and then he was yanked violently outside and slammed against the door. Arya rushed to the door but Theon’s body was slammed hard against it.

There was the sound of screaming and tearing, snarling and snapping, then a terrible gurgling sound and then something hitting the floor and being dragged by scrabbling claws. Arya Scanned the floor with the flashlight, to find the syringe and picked it up like some kind of talisman.

She opened the door again, and cautiously looked out into the kitchen. The floor was covered with blood splatter and there was a pool of it right in front of the door. Arya stepped thru it with disgust, then looking around for a weapon, she remembered the knife she had left in the sink that she had taken from Sansa earlier that day, when she tried to cut off her tail. She picked it up in her right rand, while the syringe was in her left. She saw the trail of blood where Sansa had dragged away Theon’s body, then she heard him scream again. She rushed to the stairs leading down into the basement and the stream of blood Theon had left behind as he was dragged down the stairs.

Arya took a deep breath and followed. She lost her footing in the blood and slid down the stairs, losing both the knife and the syringe, trying to catch herself. She sprawled at the foot of the stairs, stars in her eyes from the pain in her tailbone from the abuse. She looked around frantically and found the knife, but she lost the syringe! She stood up and looked down the hall and could see Theon sprawled at the other end, the wolf-like figure of her sister leaning down beside him.

“Sansa?” Arya said, stumbling forward, “Can you hear me in there? It’s Arya!” The thing that had been her sister raised its head and snarled, but did not charge, only leaned down again. It was lapping at the blood pooling beneath poor Theon. He was gashed and torn in dozens of places, his throat was partially torn out, she could see his esophagus pulsing with each shallow breath he took. He stared at Arya helplessly. She stumbled to her hands and knees and dropped the knife and crawled forward to Theon’s side. The wolf raised its head and growled and waited. “We’re sisters!” Arya whispered to the creature and just for a moment she thought she saw recognition. She held up the healing cut in her palm where she had earlier cut her hand to share blood with her sister, renewing their oath to stick together, no matter what, and the thing that had been her sister sniffed her palm. _No matter what!_ Arya thought with tears in her eyes and looked down at Theon’s blood on the floor. She dipped her fingertips into the blood, and put them into her mouth.

_The part of her that was raging with the infection that had transformed her sister, reveled in the taste of the hot,salty blood, but the part of her that was still Sansa’s sister was revolted. She dipped her fingers again and drew the blood into her mouth. I love you, Sansa! You are my sister!... But this! This isn’t right!_ “I have to save you, not become like you!” she said, and she turned and vomited up the blood. “I’m sorry!”

The wolf bared its fangs in rage and when Arya glanced at Theon’s pale face, it turned its head, snarled and tore out his throat. The hand Theon had been raising in supplication fell lifeless to the floor. And the wolf leaped as she bent to retrieve the knife. The blow sent Arya sprawling all the way back down the hall to the foot of the stairs. She scrambled between the framing boards to the dubious safety beneath the steps. Sansa followed sticking her head between the boards, jaws snapping. Arya drew herself as far as she could, against the wall, mere inches from those snapping jaws. Sansa pressed her shoulders against the framing boards, but could not quite reach her sister. She growled in frustration and the hatred that burned in her eyes made Arya’s fill with tears.

“Sansa, STOP!” She cried out, “PLEASE!”

But the wolf kept pushing, driving herself against the boards, trying to force herself thru to her prey. Arya looked around for escape and saw the syringe a few feet away, where it had landed when she fell. She carefully turned herself as the wolf snapped it teeth, mere inches from her hip and leg as she turned. It was just out of reach and the wolf redoubled its efforts slamming into the wood again and again. Arya heard a board starting to crack and she lunged for the syringe in desperation as the wolf chewed at the weakened board and then started slamming into it again. Arya turned and started kicking at the drywall beside her that led to the washroom.

She broke a hole large enough for her small frame to climb thru as the wolf continued its assault on the steps. She stood up, brandishing the knife before her and taking the syringe tightly in her fist, with her thumb on the plunger. The wolf had gone silent behind her and she peered across at the playroom the sisters had declared their “Lair” as children, when they pretended to be direwolves or witches or warriors. Where they had lived out their sad fantasies about death and suicide after the death of their father and brothers. She gathered herself and rushed into the room, slamming the door and throwing the bolt, then sliding the bar they had made to keep their step father out of their room. She stood between their beds and brandished the knife as she heard her sister smashing things in frustration.

“I am not going to die here, tonight!” She called out to the room. “Do you hear me, Sansa? I am NOT dying tonight!”

Just then the drywall to her left smashed in and there was the creature who had destroyed her sister. Growling and baring its fangs.

“SANSA STOP!” Arya cried out! “DON’T MAKE ME KILL YOU!”

The wolf stopped growling and looked at her. She looked at the knife her sister was waving in front of her and the syringe in the other. She cocked her head to one side, as if considering and then growled again and leapt. Arya threw up her hands and the wolf’ body crashed into hers.

She woke to pain. The wolf’s jaws had clamped on her shoulder, puncturing her, front and back. She looked down at the unconscious form on top of her, expecting to see the knife protruding from her chest. But it wasn’t. Her right arm was thrown to the side and the knife was inches away from her grasp. She turned her head and found her left fist, still clutching the syringe, wedged between the left front leg and the neck of the beast, the needle buried deep in its neck and the contents inserted by her thumb, still tight on the plunger. As she watched, the red hair sprung from its pale head like impossibly fast weeds, the bones creaked as they returned to normal human configuration. The jaws withdrew from Arya’s shoulder and returned to just being human teeth. He sister’s face emerged from the distorting flesh of the thing’s face.

In mere moments the nude body of her sister lay upon her and Arya wept with joy. Sansa opened her eyes and they were just Sansa’s again. Arya cried out and kissed her sister, hugging her tight with her uninjured arm.

“Arya? What happened?” Sansa said, confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We’ve had an eventful night, sis, but it’s going to be alright!” Arya replied, tiredly.

“Oh My Gods, Arya! You’re hurt!” Sansa said, raising up off her to get a better look. “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s okay!” Arya said, smiling thru the pain. “It doesn’t even really hurt anymore! I will heal faster than you can believe.”

“But what has happened?” Sansa said, looking around at the damages to their room. To the blood covering her face and chest and hands. “Why am I covered in blood? REAL BLOOD?!?”

“It’s a long story, sis, and we need to get going, We will need to gather some things and then start a fire here. And tomorrow, we will need to hit the Craft Store for some more dried monkshood flowers!” Arya said, smirking. “Now you mind getting your nude boobies off of me?”


	18. Sansa/Euron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you hear the screaming?

Sansa/Euron

  
Silence of the Wolves

 

She tried to control her breathing. They said he sensed fear like a wild animal and it intoxicated him. She straightened her conservatively cut long skirt and sensible shoes. She was instructed not to give him any kind of provocation. He would use any opportunity to turn it to his advantage. She waited by the door until the light turned green.

Sansa stepped inside the chamber, thru the thick iron door in the iron wall into a long stone chamber hewn out of the bedrock of the facility. The Black Cells of Redkeep Prison were infamous and Dr. Greyjoy occupied the deepest of them. They were no longer “Black” cells, the fluorescent overhead lights gave their sickly pallor to the chamber. The thick arma glass wall that faced the hall gave the guards full view of the prisoner at all times. Sansa walked up to the yellow line opposite where Euron Greyjoy read his book. When he finished what he was reading, he slid the small slender ribbon of the bookmark in to mark his page and closed the book with slow, deliberate care. Setting it on his small table and carefully aligning its edges with that of the table before looking up at her.

“Hello, Agent Stark. We meet again.” He smiled and met her gaze. It was a mistake on her part. It was like he could read every shadowy corner of her soul in that glance, and she found herself unable to look away. “I see they’ve been lecturing you on how to dress again, haven’t they, Sansa?” He asked, smiling. The question was rhetorical.

She looked down at the file in her hands. “Dr. Greyjoy… I have come to ask for your assistance.”

“Please, Sansa, call me Euron.” He said staring at her like a leopard sizing up a gazelle. “I must insist, if you want my help, that is?”

“As you wish, Euron. I need your help. One of your former patients has started kidnapping young women. Their bodies are found in the river, several days or even weeks later.” Sansa said, dropping her gaze to look at the file, needlessly, she had memorized the data in them days ago.

“And he skins them, doesn’t he, Sansa?” Doctor Greyjoy almost looked excited.

“Yes.”Sansa replied, almost immediately. She had been instructed not to try to lie to him. Lying gave away more than it hid. You could tell him the honest truth, or you could try to say nothing at all, but even your silences gave away things to him.

  
“Why does he do that, do you think, Agent Stark? Dazzle me with your acumen.” He said, staring at her intently. Her every breath and micro-gesture, her every spoken word, giving him volumes of information about her.

“It excites him in some way. Most serial killers usually keep some trophy or memento of their kills. As a way to relive them.” She said.

“But I never did.” Euron replied.

“No,” Sansa replied, “You just ate them.” She looked down and back up again.

He said nothing, only stared, but she could see in his facial expressions that he was reviewing every meal in his mind. “My brother tried to defy me, once. I threw him off a bridge. When they fished his body from the rocks below, I ate his liver with a nice Arbor Gold.” He sucked air through his teeth as if he were slurping the bottom of a soup bowl.

“You killed your niece and nephew, too.” she said, trying to press him off balance, just a little.

“I did. Their deaths were as delicious as their organs.” He said, nonplussed. “I chained her by the hands over a spike and I ran the chain to a choker collar on her brother. He could either step forward to try to save her from impalement by strangling himself, or free himself by letting her die. The poor idiot tried to save her and died, killing them both. Their regret and failure were a unique piquant flavor and his blackened tongue made quite the SIZZLE when it hit the pan.” He said, pressing against the glass wall. “I’ve never had as tasty a kabob as that either.”

“Let’s play a game, shall we, Sansa?” He said, turning and sitting with perfect posture. “Quid pro quo. Something for something. I will tell you things and you tell me things. But not about this case. About you, Agent Stark. Quid pro quo, yes or no? What will it be?” He turned away from her. “Yes or no, Sansa. Poor little Jeyne is waiting.”

“Go ahead, Dr, Greyjoy. Ask.” Sansa said, resigned to answer truthfully.

“What is your worst memory of childhood?” He asked, still turned away from her.

Sansa tried to keep her voice from breaking, “The death of my father.”

“Tell me about it.” He said, his head still turned away. “And don’t lie about it. I’ll KNOW!” he said, emphatically.

“My father was an important man. Some men betrayed him. Called him a traitor. They said they were sending him to exile, but my fiance changed his mind. They cut off his head.” Sansa said, quietly.

“So he died outright?” He asked, waiting.

“No, he was betrayed and stabbed in the leg, then they sent him to a cell very much like this one. He lasted for months before they killed him.” Sansa said, a touch of pride in her voice. “My father took us from our home to take his position. He had become my whole world because of that. When he left me I had nothing. I was surrounded by people who despised me. People who had killed my father. My mother died before I ever saw her again. She and my brother. I was thirteen years old.”

“You’re very frank, Sansa.” He said, and turned to face her again, “I think it would be quite something to know you in private life.”

“Quid pro quo, Doctor.” Sansa said, quietly.

“So tell me about his last victim, Sansa.” He said, plucking at his pants leg and looking down. “Tell me, was she a ‘large girl’?”

“She was known as ‘Fat Walda”, yes.” She said, standing. “Why?”

“Big through the hips? Roomy?” He said, smiling.

“Yes.” Sansa replied, leaning forward. “They all were.”

“What else?” He said, staring at the wall now.

“She had an object deliberately inserted into her throat.” Sansa said, like she was reading from the report. “That hasn’t been made public yet, we don’t know what it means.”

“Was it a butterfly?” he said, a look of almost orgasmic pleasure on his face.

“Yes.” she said, watching him the way he had been watching her. “A moth. Just like the one we found in Roose Bolton’s head an hour ago. Why does he place them there, Doctor?”

“The moth signifies change.” He said, whimsically. “From caterpillar, to pupa, to moth. Our bastard wants to change, too.”

“Change into what?” she said, straining to understand.

“Ah! Uh uh! Quid pro quo, Sansa. I answered one of yours, now you answer one of mine. Answer two and I will answer two. What do you say, Sansa?”

“Alright.” she replied.

“Did you love your father, Sansa?” He said, staring intently at her once more.

“Yes! More than anything!” she replied, tears in her eyes.

“But your father hurt you, didn’t he, Sansa?” He said, almost thrilled. “He hurt you very badly, didn’t he?”

“No!” Sansa replied, defensively. “He loved me!”

“Don’t LIE, Sansa! I TOLD you I would KNOW if you lied!” He said, angrily.

There were long moments of silence and then she whispered. “Yes...He hurt me, once.”

“Tell me.” Euron said, closing his eyes.

“I had a pet wolf.” She said, just above a whisper. “A boy I had just met got into a fight with my sister. She beat him. He couldn’t stand that and was going to have one of his father’s servants beat her, but her pet wolf intervened. Then the boy tried to hurt me and my wolf bit him on the wrist. Hard.” She closed her eyes at the memory. “The boy’s mother was very angry. She wanted the animals put down. My sister drove hers away, but mine was such a gentle lady. She only bit him to save me. She wasn’t really trying to hurt him, she could have done far worse, but she didn’t. But the boy’s father was very powerful and insisted. Because his wife insisted. So my father took Lady away. But I followed. She was trying to save me, and I owed her that much. To watch. It was my fault. She tried to save me and now she was going to pay for my mistakes. I stood, watching from the shadows as my father tied her up. She whined and cried and tried to pull loose, but he looped the rope around some trees until she couldn’t move. She just stood there and whimpered. She looked at me once, like she could see me in the dark, then she looked up into my father’s eyes. I looked up and he was weeping. And then he cut off her head. Just like they cut off his.” She said, lost in the memory now. The horror and the grief and the anger and guilt washing over her.

“And you think, if you save this girl, you can finally silence the crying of your wolf, is that it, Agent Stark?" He said, smirking in triumph, "Thank you, Sansa. Thank you. Oh, thank you!” He said, and there was almost lust in his eyes now as he stared at her.

“Quid pro quo, doctor.” she said, sniffing, but the tears were still in her eyes. “What does he want? How do I catch him?”

“It’s all right there in the file, Sansa. If you only look.” Euron said, quietly. “He wants transformation. He is a bastard who covets legitimacy. But more importantly, he covets what he cannot be.”

“What do you mean, Euron?” She said, frustrated.

  
“He wants to be someone else. Something else. He skins them. What does he do with the skins, Sansa? What is he trying to become?” Euron said, leaning forward intently.

Recognition and epiphany lit her face. “Very good, Agent Stark!”

“It’s Ramsay Snow, now Ramsay Bolton!” Sansa cried out.

“Very good indeed!” Euron said, “Please be careful, when you apprehend him. I would hate for anything untoward to happen to you. I would so enjoy another visit after you catch him. As a bit of closure. Please promise me you will return for a visit, Sansa.”

Sansa’s mind was whirring with what to do next and she blurted it out without thinking. “I promise, Dr. Greyjoy.”

“Very good, Sansa. I will keep you to your promise!” He said, a secret smile on his face. “You have a madman to catch. You’d best be on your way. Do be careful, agent Stark!” He said, turning away and facing the wall.

 

 

Sansa left him there, with only a “Thank you, Doctor Greyjoy!” and then she was walking quickly down the hall. She had a killer to catch. Maybe if she got there in time, she could silence the whining of her wolf for good...

 


	19. Sansa/Sandor/Petyr/Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I Know What You Did

Sansa/Sandor/Petyr/Cersei

  
I Know What You Did Last Summer

 

It was all a mistake.

They had never meant for any of this to happen. It just happened. The stuff was just supposed to make him sick. Let him throw up at his wedding and make a fool of himself. He wasn’t supposed to die!

At least that was what Sansa had been told. But he was dead, and now, months later, those involved were showing up dead. There were messages being left everywhere, saying. “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!” and just, “I KNOW!”. Those left were going mad with fear and paranoia that it was one of THEM that was committing the murders had started to set in.

Sansa walked the halls, frequently looking behind her, and checking every corner and stair step for loose stones or bad ceilings. She didn’t want to end up like the others.

Poor Margaery’s grandmother had fallen or been pushed down a stairwell, Dontos was pulled from the Harbor with a bolt thru his eye. Then Tommen jumped or was thrown out a window. The killer was systematically getting everyone involved in Joffrey’s death, even those only peripherally involved, like poor Tommen who had had nothing to do with it, but had profited from it.

Then Oberyn’s body was found with his head smashed in and Tyrion was found to have escaped from prison. Attention turned to the dwarf being responsible, but Sansa knew that was ridiculous. And, she knew, he had nothing to do with Joffrey’s OD either. Nobody but Sansa knew he liked to partake before he was ready to party. But she hadn’t said anything to the others. She had secretly hoped something like this would happen. He had been abusing her physically and psychologically for months before their breakup and even after he got engaged to Margaery, he had continued his torture of Sansa.

She didn’t feel like a murderer, but she was glad he was dead. The others had all hated Joffrey for their own reasons. He was an arrogant, conceited, narcissistic asshole. Anyone who wasn’t a bootlicker hated him. And even the bootlicker despised him, even if they would never admit it. And the people he had fooled into thinking he was something special had no real idea of what he was really like, or were just like him themselves.

But now someone was exacting a revenge. Not by revealing what they had done, but by killing each of them, one-by-one. Sansa was right to fear, and she was scared, but she was also angry! Who was arrogant enough to name themselves Holy Avenger for Joffrey The Terrible? Sansa had suspected his mother, until she woke up one morning, screaming. All her hair had been hacked off and someone had written on her mirror, “I KNOW!” She had run screaming, naked, through the halls at that, and that had pretty much settled everyone’s mind that it wasn’t her.

But Sansa had her doubts. Her dad had been pretty sure she was involved in her husband’s death and possible another member of the force who had been investigating the case before her father. And Cersei’s dad was linked to members of Organized Crime. She could have had it done and not gotten her hands dirty. Word was she had contacts with real Muscle. So Sansa did not feel safe here anymore.

“Sansa!” she heard Margaery’s voice behind her.

She turned to her newfound friend. “What’s up? She said.

“Have you seen Petyr? He’s made himself scarce, lately. Not as scarce as Tyrion, but nobody can find him.” Margaery asked, quickly. “I really need to talk to him!”

“Not for a while, but we were supposed to meet on his boat, later.” Sansa replied, “Maybe he’s down there?”

“Were you, now?” Margaery said, smirking. “Anything I should know about there?”

“We’re just friends!” Sansa said, defensively. “He’s almost as old as my dad!”

“So?” Said Margaery, laughing.

“Mags, stop!” Sansa said, frowning. “Just stop!”

  
“C’mon, Sansa! You know he wants you!” Margaery said, teasing.

“Well the feeling isn’t mutual!” Sansa replied, primly.

“Suit yourself!” Margaery said, smirking again, “But he’s not bad looking, for an older guy, if you don’t need them tall that is!”

“You could have tried him out at The Party!” He was certainly ready for you to!” Margaery said.

“I can’t believe you can be so flippant about it now!” Sansa said, shocked.

“Well, it’s in the past, now. You have to learn to move on!” Margaery said, “I like to remember there were some good times too, that night! She said, laughing wickedly.

“Oh My Gods! I still can’t believe we all did those things!” Sansa said, blushing furiously, “It all seems like a dream, now! Or a nightmare!”

“Yeah, it ended badly,” Margaery said, sobering. “But the beginning and middle were WILD!” She said, cheering herself up with the memories…

“Let’s get this Party started!” Cersei said, turning on the stereo and cranking the volume. She flipped a light switch and the lights dimmed and a spotlight hit a disco ball of mirrors, sending beams of light to highlight the shadows and almost create a strobe effect. Then danced into the room with her champagne glass held high.

A tray was passed around with small multi colored pills on it, like a trayful of M&M’s. Sansa was sitting next to the Bride-to-be, Margaery, who picked up a red tab and popped it into her mouth.

“The ‘Red Priest’s’ are supposed to be amazing! And this is my last night single, so I am going to make the MOST of it!” She shouted to Sansa, over the music.

“Aren’t you afraid of what Joffrey will think?” Sansa asked, waving off the tray. Before the servant could move off with the tray, she grabbed a yellow one.

“Why? I’m sure he is going to be doing the same!” Margaery said, pressing the pill against Sansa’s lips. “Try an Arbor Gold, then, even my grandma can handle them!” She said predding it into Sansa’s mouth. “Now swallow it! I’m watching you!”

Sansa frowned, and let the tab slip under her tongue while pretending to swallow.

“Good! “ Margaery said, snagging two champagne glasses off a passing servant’s tray, “Now drink! All of it! I am not going to be the only one enjoying myself at this party!” And she stood with hands on hips, pouting until Sansa drank the entire glass.

She realized her mistake when she tried to remove the tab while Margaery’s attention was elsewhere and found it has dissolved in the champagne. “Shit!” she blurted.

“What?”Margaery asked, but before Sansa had to come up with a lie the doors to the suite opened and two huge men and two women entered. Moving to the huge living room that had been sectioned off into Men’s and Women’s areas, by sectioning off the many couches into two smaller squares. “Oh! NICE!” Margaery said, eyeing the men. They were both tall and well muscled. One had a mask on like one of those ridiculous professional wrestlers. The mask looked like a snarling dog or werewolf. The other man was simply HUGE. He towered over even his companion by nearly a foot!  
“My god's!” Sansa has said.

“Hopefully!“ Margaery said wickedly! “I wonder if all of him is that big? Can you imagine?”

“Thankfully, no!” Sansa said, shocked.

The girls had gone to the other side of the room, but Sansa noticed that while one of the, was a fit, but slender brunette, the other was a redhead, whose hair was the same shade as Sansa’s.

Sansa turned her head to look behind her and saw Joffrey take a few pills from the tray and wash them down with a mouthful of bourbon from the bottle in his hands. “Whoo-hoo!” He shouted, when another tray came by with lines of white powder. He took the silver straw from the mirrored tray and snorted a line of it into his nose, then a second into his other nostril, setting the straw back and rubbing his nose. His eyes grew wide and he stared right at Sansa and screamed like a madman as the girls came over and began to gyrate before him to the music. Sansa turned away.

The strippers had lost their shirts while Sansa had been watching Joffrey and they were pouring oil over their chests and rubbing it in, so that their skin glistened. Sansa had to admit they were impressive specimens. Their hairless chests rippling with muscles. Someone had given Margaery a fake veil headband and she whooped and whistled at the men as the slowly pumped their hips to the music and ran their hands of their chests. The other women all cheered and whistled too. The music began to pound in Sansa’s ears and then seemed to vibrate across her skin. She felt warm and excited and relaxed, like nothing mattered and she stared at the glistening muscles with growing interest.

The men grabbed the sides of their pants and tore them away, Sansa noticed the Velcro strips that had held them together but then she focused on the shiny brief underwear the men wore beneath, and it appeared that Margaery’s question had been answered. They both filled out their underwear nicely and it was apparent that they were beginning to enjoy all the feminine attention! Margaery stood up and and held her hands above her head, one of them making a circling gesture like she had a lasso and she feigned tossing it on the men who obliged her by sandwiching her between them as the rubbed themselves against her! She squealed in delight!

The men then separated and began to go around the room, pumping themselves in the women’s faces. Some giggled, some blushed and turned their heads and some reached out to caress and fondle. When they got to Margaery’s grandma, she reached down and put her mouth on the tip of the bigger man’s member as it bulged thru the fabric. All the women opened their mouths in shock and then cheered wildly and whistled. The big man pumped against her mouth and her tongue worked furiously against him thru the fabric. His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised as he watched her. “I wasn’t always old, sonny! And somethings you never forget!” she said sitting back, smiling.

Sansa was shocked, but also strangely aroused, as she found the other man’s crotch in her face. Margaery looked on with lust in her eyes and cheered, “Suck it! Suck it!” the other women picked up the chant and the man in the wolf mask brought his swollen member closer in his spandex briefs.

“Go on, Little Bird, have a taste!” He said, pressing himself against her face. She could feel the heat of him and could feel it pulsing as he pressed himself against her lips. The crowd chanting and the music pounding had her heart racing and the warmth in her skin was starting to center low in her abdomen and between her legs. She couldn’t believe herself when she opened her mouth and let him thrust inside. She was even more amazed as her tongue began to lick his tip, circling and exploring it. “That’s it!” He said, “Now open wide and he pinched his buttocks, causing him to press out of the top of the briefs and his cock entered her mouth uncovered. He was so large, her mouth was forced open and she could feel him pressing against her teeth on both sides. He thrust deeper and she felt herself gag a little, her tongue trying to force him out and only adding to his excitement. The women around her screamed their encouragement and he thrust again. This time, Sansa did not fight it, but tried to relax. Caressing with her tongue instead of fighting. He moaned with pleasure and she found that she was too. He pumped into her mouth for what felt like eternity, but was only a minute or two, when he withdrew and moved on to the next woman, his member out and glistening.

Margaery patted her on the top of the head and grabbed her shoulder, “WELL DONE! She shouted over the crowd noise, “THAT WAS HOT!’

Sansa was afraid everyone would be staring at her, judging, but they were all focused on what the men were doing. She looked over her shoulder, however, and found Joffrey staring at her intently,. It took her a moment to realize he was also getting a blowjob from the red-headed stripper while the dark-haired girl fingered her. The look on his face made her supremely uncomfortable.

When she turned back around, she found that Joffrey’s mother, Cersei, had her blouse undone and her breasts hanging out while the massive man went down on her. She was raking her nails through his short, black hair and pushing his face into her crotch. She bucked her hips and screamed out “OH YES! JUST LIKE THAT DON’T STOP!”

Margaery cheered, but Sansa turned away, and saw Joffrey yank the red haired girls head away and stand. He jumped the couch and stood before his mother, his hard member flopping before him.

“Mother!” He said, trying in vain to pull the big man away from his mother, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Enjoying the party I threw for you and your bride, son. As you should be doing. Now, here, take one of these!” She said, grabbing a tab of a nearby tray and pulling him close by his shirt. Then she pressed the tab into his mouth and her finger went in way deeper than it needed to, “Now fuck off and let mommy have some fun!” and she leaned back and grabbed the big man’s ears. Joffrey stood there a moment and then stormed back to the other side.

“Fine! Let’s have some fun! Uncle Tyrion! You need to get laid!” He turned to the dark haired stripper and pointed to his little Uncle. “Fuck him! Now! Or you won’t get a dime for this, I promise.”

Tyrion looked uncomfortable, but Joffrey was having none of it. “Do it, Uncle, or I will have the Big Guy come over here and fuck you instead!” Tyrion turned to the girl. “It won’t be so bad, I promise you!” he said to the girl who seemed hesitant. “I’m actually better hung than my nephew!” he whispered to her and she smiled. She bent down and unbuckled his pants and let them fall to the floor. Tyrion was as good as his word and he wasn’t fully excited yet! She took him into her mouth and began to arouse him, expertly. Joffrey’s jeers and laughter cut off abruptly when she began to enjoy her task in earnest.

Sansa turned back around to see the big man carrying Cersei off to one of the bedrooms with her legs wrapped around his bare buttocks and as much of him as she could fit of him already inside her as she rocked her hips and screamed. More than half of him bunched and folded outside her with each thrust.

The man with the mask was being sucked by Margaery’s grandma and she seemed to be going a fine job of it. Then she pulled her head away and said, “The Guest of Honor should finish the job!” She said and pulled him by his cock around to point at Margaery and pushed him towards her, giving his ass a smack on the way. Margaery hooted and pulled her breasts out of her top as he approached her, his hips making his member bounce up and down most hypnotically.

Margaery pounced on him and and Sansa felt herself cheer along with everyone else. Sansa took another drink of champagne and tried to clear her head. She turned and saw Petyr Baelish snort a line of coke and pass the tray to Joffrey, but Sansa saw his crumble a yellow tablet into powder and sprinkle it over the next line as he offered the straw to Joffrey. He met Sansa’s gaze as Joffrey snorted it with vigor, rubbing his nose and shaking his head. When Joffrey turned back to Ros, the redhead, who was riding him hard, Petyr stood and walked around to the women’s section.

“Would you care to take one of the bedrooms before they are all gone and people start fucking on the floor?” he asked, looking down at Sansa, who shook her head. Part of her wanted to to say YES, but the little voice in her head warned against such stupidity.

“Sure!” said Margaery, wiping the cum from the side of her mouth as she stood and grabbed Petyr’s ass. Petyr looked at Sansa, but walked off with Margaery to one of the bedrooms down the hallway. To her left.

Sansa stood and walked out to the balcony. She slid the door closed and the music muffled to bearable levels. She noticed the stripper with the mask was out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. His mask pulled up just enough to expose his mouth. Sansa stepped to the rail and looked down on the lights of the City.

“You keep an eye on that blonde fucker.” He said in a gravelly voice. “He’s mean and he watches you all the time. Even more that the girl he is supposed to be marrying.”

“I know.” Sansa said, “i was his fiance once too. Before he got a better deal.” Sansa said, sighing. “ I think I’m getting the better end of the deal, though.” She smirked.

“DON’T!” The man said, snuffing his cigarette. “Don’t assume he is done with you, Little Bird, just because he is getting married.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked, alarmed. “What do you know about him?”

“I know plenty!” he said, turning to face her. “I do Work for his grandfather. We’ve met before. He is a miserable little prick, but he doesn’t let go of things he thinks are his!”

“Can you take that ridiculous mask off? It’s really hard to have a serious discussion with a dog mask! What’s your name, anyway? We should probably be on a first name basis, considering… I’m Sansa”

“Fine, but you won’t like it,” he said, lifting his hands to remove the mask. “ The name’s Sandor, but most people call me ‘Dog’. You bitches like my cock well enough, but my face gives you nightmares!” and he pulled off the mask. The right side of his face was a mass of burn scarring, as if his flesh had melted and sagged, He had no eyebrow on that side and there was a patch on his forehead that almost looked like it had been seared to the bone. He grimaced at the horrified look on her face.

“Oh gods! What happened?” Sansa blurted out, without thinking.

“My big brother did it, when we were kids.” He mumbled, putting the mask back on and lighting another cigarette.

“Couldn’t you get plastic surgery or something?” Sansa asked, indelicately.

“I’m AB negative and allergic to most surgical adhesives. The only good donor is my brother and he’s not offering!” he said, taking a long pull on the cigarette. “This is as close to fire as I like to get, now.”

Just then Joffrey stood up, abruptly and grabbed his head. He started staggering around the room and his hands went to his throat. He started gasping for air, but the sound got more and more strained until his gasping made a whistling sound and then went silent. His face turned red, then purple the blood vessels in his eyes and nose started to swell. Women started screaming and men were shouting. Cersei came bursting out of her rooms and ran naked to Joffrey, seemingly unashamed of the hickeys and bruises on her breasts and the red hand prints on her ass. “JOFFREY!” She screamed, as he grabbed her shoulders and collapsed to the floor. His face turned black and his labored chest grew still, the hands he had grabbed his mother with fell limp. “NOOOOOOoooooo!”

“Somebody call 911!” Margaery’s grandma shouted and some people pulled out their cell phones. “Not all of you! IDIOTS! Just one of you!”

Sansa stared in shock thru the sliding glass door at the surreal tableau before her. “You might want to get out of here before the cops come, Little Bird. This is gonna be a shitshow!” Sandor said, standing next to her. He pulled on his pants and shirt and slipped quietly into the room and made his way to the door. His brother met him there, still pulling on his tight tank top. The both slipped out the front door without a word. Followed only briefly by the two women strippers.

Sansa just stood there in shock. Even when the police and EMT’s came. Even when they covered the body and the police started interviewing people. She just stood there. Finally one of the detectives came out to her on the balcony.

“Miss Stark?”He began gently. “I’m detective Martell. You can call me Oberyn, if you like. I understand you had been engaged to the deceased, is that right?” he asked her.

“Yes, he was my fiance for almost a year. Until last month when he got engaged to Margaery..” she mumbled dully.

“And yet you were invited to this … Party?” detective Martell said, dubiously.

“Yes, there were no hard feelings on my part, Joff and I had been having problems before they got together…” she said, then looked him in the eyes. “I like Margaery. We’re friends.!”

“Okay.” said the detective. “So did you see the decedent take any illicit or dangerous substances today? Anything that might have contributed to his death?”

“It was a Lannister Party, detective. What do you think?” She said, snidely.

The detective coughed, “Yes, well, did you see him take anything out of the ordinary for him?”

“Well it’s his Bachelor Party! He was partying pretty hard?” Sansa noticed there was no sign of any of the trays in the room. Either they had been collected as evidence or they had disappeared before the cops showed up. Sansa would bet on the latter.

“And did YOU partake of anything, Miss Stark?” He asked.

“ Just champagne.” she answered, the lie coming to her lips unbidden, “I’m not used to the Lannister lifestyle.”

“I see.” he said, but the tone of his voice made it clear he wasn’t sure he believed her, but didn’t have enough evidence to press her further. “Well, we’ll be in touch, if I have any further questions. Please don’t hesitate to call, if you think of anything else that might be helpful?” He said, handing her his card.

And she thought that had been the end of it. The original coroner’s report found it to be a tragic accidental overdose. But then new allegations were raised and it was suggested that maybe his uncle had deliberately caused him to overdose. He was arrested and was awaiting trial. He claimed he was being set up. Detective Martell went on TV, swearing to get to the bottom of things and was still looking for the strippers at the Party as “Persons of Interest”.

Then people started turning up dead. First there was Dontos, a local Poppy powder and E dealer to the rich kids, who all called him “The Fool”, was pulled out of the harbor, a crossbow bolt thru his eye. Then Margaery’s grandma fell down the stairs. Most people thought it was a tragic accident, but they hadn’t seen the old woman going down on The Mountain! She was spyer than she let on! No, she had been pushed! Sansa and Margaery all agreed on that. They were debating sharing their thoughts with detective Martell, when his body was found in a back alley, His eyes put out and his head crushed like a pumpkin after Halloween, when the kids chucked them into the street from their windows for fun!

That had truly frightened the girls, and they went with their fears to Petyr Baelish, who told them it was nonsense.

“Cops get killed all the time!”Petyr said, dismissively “There’s nothing to say this had anything to do with the party! And there’s nothing to tie it to Joffrey, as long as you keep a cool head!”

“What do you mean?” the girls said, almost in unison,

“I’ve seen the preliminary tox report.” Petyr said, slyly. “He had six times the amount of E it would take to blow out The Dog’s brains, and three times the Poppy! Somebody was slipping him extra in there, somewhere! That’s not common knowledge and as long as it stays that way, nobody will dig deeper. Let Tyrion take the fall and this can all just be a bad memory!”

“But Tyrion had nothing to do with it!” Sansa said in reply.

Petyr looked at her intently, “How do you know that? He was at the Party and he had no love for Joffrey”

“But I saw…” Sansa began and realized who she was speaking to.

“What did you see, Sansa?” Petyr said, intently, just a hint of menace in his voice.

“Nothing.” Sansa said, lowering her gaze, “I didn’t see a thing.”

“Exactly!” Petyr said, triumphantly. “Let’s keep it that way! Then this can all blow over.”

The next night, Tyrion escaped from jail. And the say after, they found Joffrey’s little brother had jumped from his balcony. He had just been named CEO of the Family business. People were stunned. Sansa was even more afraid.

Sansa went down to Flea Bottom, to a Wrestling Ring there, she had heard the boys talk about. About a pro wrestler who always wore a mask… She snuck backstage and found him sitting in his rooms, staring at his face in the mirror. “You should keep that mask on! There’s still a city wide manhunt for you and your brother, you know!”

“I know. What the fuck are YOU doing here, Little Bird?” Sandor said into the mirror, not turning. “Little birds are likely to get caged or worse down here, you know?”

“I heard about the masked wrestler and had to give it a try. We need to talk?” she said stepping up close to him. He stood and he towered over her.

“Do we?” he said, looking down at her. “There are better ways to spend the time we have left. ‘Talk’ is the wrong verb!” He said, running his finger along her jaw. “Such a pretty Little Bird.”

Sansa tightened at his touch, her mind flashing back to the feel of his cock in her mouth. She felt her panties dampen.

“You need to get serious! Someone is killing those of us who were at, or involved with the Party.”  
She said, trying not to think about what it would be like to let him do what he wanted to do.

“I fucking know, Little Bird. The fucking cops think I had something to do with it!” He said, stepping closer. “And my big brother has gone missing, after that detective died. I am probably next!”

“Then why don’t you want to help me figure out what is going on?” She said, feeling the heat of him and smelling the oils on his skin from wrestling. If you ignored the burns, he really was quite striking! She tried to stay focused. “Before whoever is doing this gets us!”

“I’m trying to live, Little Bird, if I am going to be taken out tonight, I’d rather have a stupid grin on my fucking face than a scowl full of regret for what I missed!” he said, leaning down to kiss her.  
She kissed him back, for just a moment, then pushed him away with a whimper.  
“Get serious, Sandor!” She said, stepping away from him.

“Look, I AM being serious. But if you aren’t interested, fuck off, I haven’t got time for girlies to figure out what they fucking want!” He said, slamming his fist into the wall.

“I’m sorry, Sandor, really, but I have to figure out what is going on!” Sansa said and she left his dressing room.

She walked down the hall and out the back door and into the alley, where she had parked her car. She noticed the trunk was open and went to close it. She opened it to get a good slam on it when she noticed the feet. She opened the trunk lid completely and there was Petyr Baelish! His throat had been cut, and he was mostly wrapped in a plastic sheet that held the blood from getting all over her trunk. Who ever had killed him had done it and was trying to make her look like the killer! “Oh gods!” She whispered and slammed the trunk shut. She ran to the door she had just come out, but it was locked. She pounded on it, but no one answered. She ran around to the front of the building, but slowed as she reached the sidewalk. Running would just attract attention and that was the last thing she needed now. She walked back in and past the ticket cage, nodding to the attendant “I forgot something!” she muttered and her let her in with a nod.

“Let me guess! Your panties?” The attendant laughed and Sansa frowned. But she kept on walking back to the back where the dressing rooms were. Shen knocked on Sandor’s door, but she heard him thru the door.

“Fuck off! No more visitors today!” She heard his muffled voice say.

“Sandor! It’s Sansa! Open the door!” she stage whispered thru the door! “Hurry! Open up! It’s an emergency!”

Sansa was startled, when the door was finally yanked open, “What the fuck do you want now, Little Bird? Change your mind about slumming with the freak?”

“Sandor let me in!” She said, ducking under his arm and into the room. “We can’t discuss this in the hallway!”

“Well unless you are here to open one hole or another for me, I don’t much care what you have to say…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Sansa screamed at him, then whispered tightly, “Petyr Baelish is dead!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sandor said, confused and startled by her vehemence. “I didn’t know you had that in you!”

“I just went out to my car and found his body, with its throat cut, in the trunk of my car!” Sansa continued in low tones.

“You are fucking kidding me!” Sandor said, smirking. “Just sitting there for you to find?”

“The trunk was open and when I looked inside, there he was!” Sansa said, starting to tear up. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Well, if you really saw what you say you did, then I would say someone is trying to set you up!” Sandor said, thoughtfully. “Where’s your car now?” he asked, concern tinging his voice.

“In the alley out back, why?” Sansa responded. “What’s the matter?”

“If someone is really setting you up, then they will have called the cops by now!” He said, throwing on a shirt and leather jacket. “Come on!”

He led her down the hall and opened the back door so hard it slammed against the wall. Sansa took a trash can and put it in front of the door frame, so the door couldn’t close all the way. And pointed to her car. He walked quickly to the back of her car and then looked both ways down the alley, but they were alone. “Open it!” He ordered.

Sansa popped open the trunk with her key fob and gasped when it opened and there was no body. “What the fuck?! He was right there!” she whispered.

“If you are fucking with me, Little Bird, I will break your skinny neck and fuck your pretty corpse!” Sandor said, angrily.

“He was right there! I swear it! His throat was cut and he was wrapped in plastic!” She whispered back to him, “I’m not lying to you!”

Sandor looked into her eyes, but all he saw was confusion and terror. “Alright, I believe you!” He said, emphatically. “But why would someone let you see the body and then move it while you were gone? They had no idea how long you would be gone!”

“I don’t know!” Sansa almost shouted with despair.

“Well we still need to get out of here!” Sandor said, “let’s go down to Littlefinger’s boat in the Harbor, The Red Robyn. We can at least be assured he won’t be on it, if his throat is cut!”

They got in her car and drove down to the Harbor. It was nearly dark as they parked and Sandor led her into the marina. “Do you know where his boat is?”

“Yes, I have been there many times.” Sandor said, moving quickly. Sansa struggled to keep up.  
As they passed a supply shed a man stepped out and struck Sandor on the back of the head. He collapsed without saying a word. The man stood and she could see it was Jaime Lannister. Sansa’s eyes widened in fear as he rushed her. He had a small cloth that smelled funny as he pressed it up to her nose. She drew in a sharp breath in fear and the darkness claimed her.

 

She woke on a boat. She could feel the movement and feel the vibration of the engine. Her hands and feet were zip tied together and she was laying on the floor of someone’s luxury yacht cabin. She heard someone approach and voice said behind her as she was lifted. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t have you running about, confused while we were leaving port and didn’t have time to explain.” Jaime Lannister’s voice was in her ear. He ankle bonds were released. But as he turned her around he saw the anger and outrage in her eyes. “Maybe we will keep the wrist straps on a little longer!”

“Why did you hit Sandor and kidnap me?” Sansa said, angrily.

“He’s been a bad dog, lately, and his brother is off the reservation!” Jaime said, smirking. “As I said, we were in a rush and there wasn’t time to explain.” He led her out of the cabin by her elbow and took her down the hallway and up a set of stairs to the main deck, and then up a second set to the Command Cabin. He opened the door and let her in.

To her amazement, Petyr Baelish was at the controls and standing next to him was Cersei Lannister.

“Why did you bring her up here?” Cersei said, angrily.

“I didn’t see the harm. Besides, she’s not going anywhere.” Jaime replied.

“You always did like to play with your food, Lannister.” Littlefinger said, coldly.

Sansa’s blood ran cold as the realization of her situation hit her.

 

Meanwhile, back on the dock, Sandor Clegane rubbed the back of his head. “Fucking Hell!” He said, realizing Sansa was nowhere nearby. He looked up and saw that The Red Robyn was no longer in her slip. “Shit!” he cursed aloud. He ran to the Harbormaster’s office and burst thru the door. “The Red Robyn! How long ago did she leave and what was her course?” He yelled at the young man behind the desk.

He checked a computer screen and muttered. “They left about fifteen minutes ago, headed Northeast. Their transponder shows them still headed North...what the Hells? Their transponder just shut off!”

“Fuck!” Sandor shouted. “Call the cops!” And her ran from the office and down the dock. He spotted a speedboat he had been on before for a gig and he slipped aboard. Sure enough, the keys were right where he’d seen he put them. He started the motor and untied the boat and threw the throttle forward. The boat shot across the water, leaving a rooster tail of water in its wake. He sped the boat Northwest, bouncing on the waves as he cleared the breakwater. He belted himself in and pushed the throttle as far as it would go. The tachometer entering the red  
zone.

Littlefinger’s yacht was built for luxury, not speed and it wasn’t long before the speedboat’s sonar detected the craft ahead. Sandor eased the throttle out of the red, but kept closing the distance as fast as he dared. The yacht had changed course due East and Sandor adjusted to cut the corner. He turned of his own transponder and turned the sonar to passive. Hopefully they would not be expecting pursuit. They would expect him to cut his losses and run off. And he couldn’t really believe he wasn’t, but a pair of blue eyes and a head of long red hair drove him forward. “I’m coming Little Bird.”

He throttled back further as he could see the running lights in the distance. He cut his own lights as he slowed to approach as silently as he could. The boat stopped and sandor could see the anchor drop into the water with a splash.

“Well that’s not fucking good!” He said, throttling back until his engine purred so softly, the sound of the waves against the boat almost drowned it out. Then shut the engine down completely and let himself drift forward.

 

“You see, Sansa. A mother cannot allow people to harm her child.” Cersei said, as Littlefinger throttled back and hit a button to drop the anchor, nodding to Cersei. “You would not understand, being too weak and useless to bear children yourself.”

“You were all responsible for Joffrey’s death. None of you took care of him, as you should have!” Jaime said, quietly, behind her.

“You’re his mother! You went off with Gregor and left him alone! You are as guilty as the rest of us, aren’t you , Cersei?” Sansa shouted at her, using her raised voice to distract from her trying to break the zip-ties binding her wrists.

Cersei looked at Jaime and then down. Then up again, at Sansa. “You shut your mouth!”

“Why?” She said, sensing an opening. “Doesn’t he know you were fucking The Mountain while Joff Oh Dee’d, Cersei?”

“SHUT UP!” Cersei screamed, “SHUT YOUR FILTHY LYING MOUTH!”

“What is she talking about, Cersei?” Jaime asked. “Were you fucking someone else while our son died?”

“She’s LYING, Jaime! Can’t you see!” Cersei cried out.

“You’re SON?!?” Sansa said, stunned. “Wait! Joffrey was your SON?!?”

“They all were mine.” Jaime said, dully. “And now they’re all dead.”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! THE POISON WASN’T MEANT FOR HER!” Cersei screamed at Jaime. “AND TOMMEN JUST JUMPED, after Myrcella and Margaery. That bitch fucked with his head the way this bitch is fucking with yours!”

Sansa sensed her moment and bolted. Cersei was ready to kill her then and there. She fled out past Jaime, still stunned from Cersei’s revelation and out the door and down the stairs. The yacht was big, and there were places to hide, but it wasn’t THAT big. They would find her, eventually. He first task after getting away was to get these zip-ties off! She turned into the main cabin to look for the Galley, but she could hear someone coming down another flight of stairs, she opened the door and saw a ladder leading down into the engine room. She stepped inside and closed the door, quietly. Then slowly crept down the ladder, trying not to make any noise. She had just reached the bottom and slipped behind the ladder when the door above was yanked open by someone. There was a pause, as if someone was listening and then the door closed and she could hear footsteps moving aft. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked for something with which to cut the ties.

 

Sandor slipped aboard the yacht and tied the motor boat to a stern cleat. He was just moving forward when he heard a door open. He heard a man’s voice and peaked above the back of the seat he was hiding behind.

“That was very clever, Sansa! Getting Cersei and me fighting. I will give you that!” Jaime Lannister said, from the doorway. He was searching for her, so she must have gotten away.

“Clever Little Bird!” Sandor whispered to himself.

“It’s going to go worse for you, though, I’m afraid, Sansa. Joff was a prick, but he was mine. And you let him die. Cersei is a cunt, but she is my sister and she’s MY cunt! I killed The Mountain for what they were doing, after he killed the detective for me. I knew! He was useful, but he had gotten out of hand!” Jaime said, checking one side of the cabin and then the other. He had a gun in his right hand and a knife in his left.

Sandor charged just as Jaime looked at the speed boat, bumping against the stern in the waves. Jaime got off a wild shot that missed and then Sandor was on him. Sandor grabbing the smaller man’s wrists and keeping him from getting off a clean shot or stabbing him with the knife. They pushed and wrestled across the deck on the rolling of the boat. Sandor managed to slam Jaime’s left hand against the gunwale and the knife fell from nerveless finger, but Jaime was able to pull his left wrist loose and grabbed his right wrist to turn the gun to point it at Sandor. Sandor took his free hand and grabbed the line from the speed boat as it slammed against the hull of the yacht again. He looped the rope around Jaime’s right wrist and then punched him in the face. The speedboat pulled away from the yacht in the waves and the rope pulled taut on Jaime’s wrist. He screamed and the gun fell overboard and his other hand tried to pull the rope slack. Sandor took the opportunity to flip him up and over the side, so that he was suspended by his wrist, screaming. The two boats slammed together again, their hulls both slamming into Jaime’s wrist. He screamed even louder and then the boats were pulled apart again. There was an awful tearing sound and the loop that held his wrist closed, and slid free, as his hand was severed. It bounced off the gunwale with a meaty splat and fell into the water. Jaime’s body slipped beneath the waves. Sandor watched for a moment, to see if he would resurface, but he didn’t, so he moved forward in search of Sansa.

 

  
Below decks, Sansa was still searching for something to free her wrists. She jumped when she heard the gunshot. And her search became more frantic. She couldn’t find anything useful and her skin tore before the tie did when she tried to pull it open against a lever. She moved forward and clumsily opened a hatch. Inside she found scuba gear and a body, wrapped in plastic. She turned it over, but the face was nothing but a bloody horror. She fought down a scream and panted for a few minutes. Then she looked for a dive knife and found one. She cut her ties and massaged her wrists.

Her only chance was to get to a radio and call for help and then hope to elude capture, long enough for them to find the boat. She crept from the Dive Room and took the forward ladder up to the main deck. She had just cleared the hatchway when she heard a gun’s hammer click.

“How apropos!” Cersei said, snidely. “Climbing out of the bowels, trying to live with your betters!”

Sansa turned and there was Cersei, holding a gun on her, while Petyr Baelish stood next to her.

“Yes, quite apropos.” Petyr said, smiling, “Like a woman seeking revenge on everyone else for her own failures. As a mother, as a lover, as a wife.” He said, smugly. “You have failed at everything.”

“What are you babbling about, Littlefinger? I have the gun!”Cersei said, pointing it at Sansa.

“Yes, but not the one you should be pointing at!” He said, smiling coldly, and his right hand flashed across her throat. The knife he had held reversed and hidden in his hand opened her a second mouth and blood fountained from the cut that went so deep it reached her spine. Her mouth opened and a bubbling gurgling sound emitted from her severed esophagus. She dropped the gun and grasped her throat, trying to stem the fountain of blood gushing from her severed carotids. She stared at his blood-splashed face and then back at Sansa, seeking help that would never, could never, come. She collapsed to the deck and her hands fell away, the blood continued to flow for several minutes as Sansa watched in shock. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that!” Petyr said down at the corpse that had been Cersei Lannister.

“I saw you dead!” Sansa blurted out. “How are you still alive?”

“Yes,” Petyr said, “Sorry about that. I needed you to go to the Harbor before we left and you needed a bit of prodding.”

“So you were behind this all along?” Sandor Clegane said as he came from the starboard side walk, holding a big pipe wrench in his hands.

“No.” Petyr said, “I was behind THIS, but not everything.” He said, gesturing at Cersei.

“This was Cersei and Jaime’s plan to get revenge for their son’s senseless, but opportune death. Blaming everyone but the real people responsible. The two people who had turned him into the little monster he was!” He said, spitting on Cersei’s corpse. “Baelish was just a pawn, trying to bend things to his own advantage. As usual.”

“But, ‘Baelish’? You are Petyr Baelish, Petyr!”

“No. I’m not.” Petyr said and pulled at the skin at his neck and peeled the skin away like a mask, and there was Arya, Sansa’s missing sister! “I picked up a few tricks while I was away, sis!” she said, smiling.

Sansa’s and Sandor’s mouths hung open in shock. And Arya laughed at the matching expressions.

“Now let’s set up a tragic fire on-board and take Sandor’s boat. This is much more eloquent than my original plan!” Arya said cheerfully.

“What are you talking about?” Sansa said, confused.

“Simple.” Arya replied. “We set an explosion and fire. That will get rid of the evidence nicely, then we take the speed boat and make our way up the coast and across to Braavos. Before I killed him, I got his numbered accounts from Littlefinger for the Iron Bank.” She flipped the mask of skin in her palm like a pancake. “We go there, I use this to get the money and we disappear. We can get Sandor the plastic surgery he’s needed for a long time and you two can stop making puppy eyes at each other! And we can leave that shithole of a city behind! Sound like a plan?”

“I like it!” Sandor said, smiling, “But what’s wrong with my face?” He said, grinning ironically.

“Well, for one thing it’s too distinctive!” Sansa said, smiling.

“I suppose that means you’re gonna stop being a redhead?” Sandor said, pouting.

“Maybe a shade or two darker?” Sansa said, playfully. “Or would you prefer blonde?”

“Just the way you are, Little Bird, but I will take you any way you like!” He said, grinning wickedly.

Arya just shook her head. “Can we get out of here, please? I think she shit herself when she died!” She said, holding her finger under her nose and looking down at the corpse.

  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
The head bobbed in the waves. The blue eyes glowing hatred in the dark as the motorboat sped away from the burning yacht. There was a huge explosion and debris was thrown everywhere. A life ring landed a few feet away and the head struggled in the water to keep above the waves as it made its way clumsily to it. A maimed wrist was thrown over the life ring and the figure kicked for shore, miles away. 


	20. Jon/Dany/Sam/Gilly/Tormund/Brienne/Sandor/Sansa

Jon/Tormund/Sandor/Samwell/Danaerys/Brienne/Sansa/Gilly

  
Ghostbusters

 

They pulled up in their converted ambulance, the siren blaring and lights flashing. As they exited the car, they all looked up at the top of the building. Black clouds were gathering, swirling around the top of the building like some tornado from Hell. Lighting struck the spires at the corners of the building and the sound of thunder was deafening.

“We are definitely gonna have to charge Overtime for this one!” Samwell yelled as the others started strapping into their proton packs.

“Aegon, what’s it look like to you?” Tormund said, helping Sandor into his pack.

“Just call me Jon, would you?” Jon said, bringing out his PKE Meter and turning it on. “The display went white and the arms slid out the side and stuck. “Readings are off the scale, Tormund!

“Can we stop arguing about what you two cunts call each other and focus on the task at hand?” He said, pointing to the top of the building. “We have bigger problems!”

“Right!” Jon and Tormund said, together.

“So what’s the plan?” Sam shouted between thunder rolls.

“We get up there! Save Tormund’s girlfriend! Stop the Apocalypse!” Jon shouted.

“She’s not my girlfriend yet!” Tormund protested, “When I said we would make ‘monster babies’, I didn’t mean actual ‘Baby Monsters’!”

Jon smirked and they walked across the street, but as they did, a bolt of lightning struck the center of the street and they were all thrown to the ground. The crowd that had begun to gather and chant “Ghostbusters! Ghostbusters!” all began to scream as the ground shook and the road split apart and the ground seemed to swallow the four men. There was a disembodied laughter that rang in everyone’s ears, but it cut off abruptly as a gloved hand appeared, followed by Tormund’s bright red hair! Then the others emerged, shakem, if apparently unscathed. The crowd cheered one more and the four intrepid men waved back!

“It will take more than that to beat us!” Sam shouted.

“Right, let’s roast these cunts!” Sandor shouted. As they hall charged into the luxury apartment building. The lights were out and nothing happened when they pressed the elevator button.

“What floor is your girlfriend’s apartment, Tormund?” Jon asked, sighing.

“The sixty-sixth floor, Suite Six.” Tormund said, oblivious.

“Naturally!” Sandor said, frowning. “Didn’t that give you any fucking clue before shit hit the fan, Red?”

  
“What?” Tormund said, still confused, “She has a great view of The Park and it’s Rent Controlled! What else did I need to know?”

“Suite 6, on the 66th floor?” Jon said, rings no bells?

“No. Should it?” Tormund said, turning to each of them.

“Never mind.”Sam said,”Looks like we have to take the stairs.” He said, leaning into the press-bar latch and pushing the stairwell door open. They all jogged in and up the stairs.

  
Twenty minutes later, they were still trudging up the stairs, breathing heavily. Sam leaned against the rail and mumbled, “What floor are we on?”

“Thirty-six!” Jon said, tiredly.

“Fine.” Samwell replied, “Tell me when we get to forty, I’m going to throw up!”

When they reached the fiftieth floor, they took a breather. They were all breathing heavily. Sam was pale with pink blotches on his skin from the exertion and even the Hound looked winded.

“So what can we expect, Sam? What are we facing?” Jon said to Sam, trying to take his mind off his exhaustion for a moment.

“Well…”Sam said, trying to catch his breath, “According to Rhaegar’s Spirit Guide, ‘The Stormborn’ can take many forms, but each one is terrible and brings destruction on an unimaginable scale. Sometimes it is a frozen King that brings a blizzard and ice and sleet that freezes everything in its path. Sometimes, it comes as a dragon, breathing fire and destruction. Sometimes it comes as a plague of pigmy skeletons that rend the flesh from their victims while they are still alive.”

“So nothing fucking good!” Sandor said, with dull eyes. “How does this cunt of his figure in?”

“The Stormborn cannot enter unbidden. It takes a ‘Gatekeeper’ and a ‘Keymaster’ to make the children that unlock the door.” Samwell replied.

“So she really IS giving birth to monster babies?” Tormund said, in shock.

“Technically, yes, but maybe not the way you are thinking. Spirits spawn in many way. Some take the traditional exit, but others burst through the Host’s chest, while other spew from the mouth, or even the eyes.” Sam said, clinically.

“I think we may need to look at adoption…” Tormund said, sadly.

Sandor stared at him as if he were mad. “You really are a crazy fuck, you know that?” He said, shaking his head. Turning to Sam, he asked, “So how do we kill it? Does the fucking thing have a weakness?”

“The only weakness it might have is its chosen form. The thing will have the form of whatever is chosen for it.” Sam replied.

“So who gets to choose its form?” Jon asked.

“It’s a god, Jon, it decides. Or it lets someone else choose on a whim?” Sam said, shaking his head, “I don’t know.”

“Fine. So whatever it come out as, we kick its ass and get my girl back!” Tormund said, smiling. “Seems simple enough!”

They all just stared at him. Sam nodded. Sandor shook his head again, mumbling, and Jon tried to sense some trace of whether the red-headed wild man was being sarcastic or not. He decided not. “Right,” he said, “Let’s do this!”

They all groaned as the started the assault on the last sixteen flights of stairs. But they moved with more purpose than they had in several dozens of flights of stairs. They came to the last door, labelled “Floor 66” and pushed the door open.

It was like some demented carnival fun-house where every ghost and demon and spirit had suddenly sprung to life. Imps were dancing across the floor, leaving little scorch marks in the carpet, while vapors and full figure apparitions chased each other thru the walls. Slime and ectoplasmic goo coated the walls, the smell of brimstone was nearly overwhelming.

“How the fuck do we get thru THAT?!?” Sandor exclaimed.

“I have an idea!” Samwell exclaimed in reply, “Everyone, get your traps out!”  
They each grabbed their boxlike ghost traps by the cord, near its boxlike trap.

“Now Jon, Point yours up and out. I will point mine down and back. Sandor, point yours to the left and Tormund, point yours to the right. When I say, open your traps. And make SURE it is pointing away from you and sweep if one of the spirits is outside the trap field! DO NOT look into the trap!” Sam said, quickly. “We will run down the hallway and close the traps at the end. We should get most of them! The traps aren’t built for that kind of containment, but if I’m right, they won’t have to last for long!”

They got into a tight square, each man pointing his trap outwards. Sam reached up and clicked the trigger pedal of the coiled chord and the doors sprung open. He reach behind him and grabbed Jon’s belt in a tight grip and said, “Now! Open them and go!”They hurried across the hallway, only slowed by Sam having to run backwards. They swept the beams from the traps up and down, sweeping up spirits into the confinement beams. Their screams of frustration echoed in the halls. They stopped before the door to room Six, which stood ajar. And Sam shouted “NOW!” They all hit their triggers again and the beams drew the spirits and demons were drawn into the traps, which clicked shut with snaps. The boxes vibrated and small electrical sparks and arcing across them.

They opened the door and a strange, bluish light shone out as the opened the door. The light was coming from a stairway, leading upwards.

“Roomy!” The Hound said, sarcastically.

“That wasn’t here earlier!” Tormund said, sounding confused.

“It looks like it leads up to the roof.” Sam said.

“Ok, heat ‘em up!” Jon said, flicking on his proton pack. The others followed suit and and they all hummed to life with a whine.

They made their way up the stairs, bunching together in trepidation. The stairs did indeed end on the roof. The light was coming from a strange structure on top of the building. It had originally been some kind of spire,but now was open on one side and seemed to open onto another place. Someplace alien and foreign, with a lack of landscape and an eerily lit cloud cover. In the background was some kind of massive metallic pyramid and in the foreground before them, there appeared to be doorway made of glass. The portal was held open by some weird flying creatures that seemed to be holding the portal open, like holding open a wound so that a surgeon could work. On two raised pedestals before the glass doorway were two huge demon dogs, with eyes glowing a malevolent red. As they watched, a golden light appeared above the pyramid and moved towards the glass doors, which opened at its approach. The light became blindingly bright and when they could all see again, there was a woman standing there. She was small and athletic, with white hair and violet eyes and she was beautiful.  
“It’s a girl.” Sandor said, needlessly.

“It’s The Stormbringer!” Sam said, emphatically.

“I thought The Stormbringer would be a man?” Jon said. “Not a beautiful woman!”

“It’s whatever it chooses to be, remember?” Sam replied.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s got to get by us, right?” Jon said. “Right, Sam?”

“Right!” Sam replied.

“Go Get Her, Sam!” Jon said, not moving a muscle. Revenge for their first ghostly encounter when Sam had instigating them charging a full vapor apparition of a Librarian, who, when they charged her, turned into something monstrous and scared the living daylights out of all three of them. It was that encounter that inspired the Proton Pack and Containment Traps they had with them, now. Sam just looked at Jon and then swallowed audibly and stepped forward.

“Good evening! Stormbringer! As a duly designated representative of the City, State and County of King’s Landing, i order you to cease all paranormal activity and return forthwith to your Place of Origin, or the nearest convenient parallel dimension!” He blinked at the end, surprised he had been allowed to finish without being annihilated.

The woman stared at him for a moment as a human might stare at a moth which had flown into their home by mistake.

“That oughta do it! Thanks very much, Sam, you cunt!” Sandor said, sarcastically.

The creature looked down at him. “ARE YOU A GOD?” Its voice rumbled in their skulls.

Sam looked back at his fellows, looking for inspiration or at least encouragement, but all they could do was stare. Jon managed to nod in encouragement. He turned back and stared at it and swallowed, “No!” he said, honestly.

“THEN...DIE!” it said and summoned some kind of power that it hurled at them.

Purple lighting seemed to play across their skin and they screamed as they were burned and frozen, all at the same time, and swept across the rooftop towards the edge.They were flung against the crenelations at the edge, but managed to hold onto them and each other and so were saved from a seven hundred foot plunge to the streets below. As the attack subsided they all huddled together and tried to catch their breaths.

“Sam!’ “Sandor said, angrily,”If some cunt asks you if you are a GOD, you say ‘YES!’”  
“Alright, this bitch is TOAST!” Jon shouted. They walked back into the light from the Portal, spreading out and lining up. Rolling their shoulders and shrugging of the pain as they faced off against their immortal foe. “Got your Stick?” he said, and they all pulled their emitters together, shouting, “HO!”

“Heat ‘em up!” Jon shouted, flicking the switch, as the others did. The power surged thru the cables into the emitters.

“Smoking!” the others shouted back.

“Make ‘em hard!” Jon said again and they all elongated the emitter rods to their full seven inch length.

“Ready!” The shouted back.

“Let’s show this prehistoric bitch how we do things downtown!” Jon said, glaring at her and trying not to see her beauty.

She glared at them and drew her lips back in a feral snarl and crouched as if to pounce. They they their threw their four streams of power at her, but she leapt nimbly away, flipping thru the air over their heads to land behind them. They cut off their streams and stared in amazement.

“Nimble little minx, isn’t she?” Jon mumbled as they turned and walked towards her.

“We gotta go full-stream!” Sam said, making adjustments to his emitter. The others followed suit and pointed their emitters at her.

“Aim for the head!” Jon said, as they all opened fire on The Stormbringer standing before them, but before the beams could touch her, she disappeared.

They moved forward. “That wasn’t so hard!” Sandor said, casually.

They all looked around, but there were no signs of it. Sam looked around, dumbfounded, “We neutranized it!” He said. “You know what that means? A complete particle reversal!”

“OK, we had the tools, we had the TALENT!” Tormund said, triumphant.

“It’s Miller Time!” Sandor said, emphatically.

“Um, Jon…” Sam said, checking his PKE Meter, “This looks extraordinarily BAD!” he said, showing him the meter had buried its needle and its arms were straining to raise higher than they were designed for.

“Oh no…” Jon said.

“What? “ said Tormund, but Sam began looking around as if expecting a blow or something to fall on him.

Suddenly the building began to vibrate, bits of the spire began to break loose, including a decorative bust on one of the corners, which fell off the building to crash into the streets below. The spectators began to scream and run for cover. A few were struck by falling debris.

“FOUL CREATURES! DANAERYS THE STORMBORN, DANAERYS THE DESTRUCTOR, VALYRIAN SCION, THE TRAVELER HAS COME!” The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, “CHOOSE AND PERISH!”

“What do you mean, ‘choose’?” Sam stood forward to say, “We don’t understand!”

“CHOOSE! CHOOSE THE FORM OF THE DESTRUCTOR!” The voice replied.

“Ooh! I get it! I get it!” Tormund shouted! “Very cute!” He said to the sky. “Whatever we think of, if it’s Joffrey the Terrible, then Joffrey the Terrible will appear to destroy us! So empty your heads! Empty your heads! We don’t think of anything! We’ve only got one shot at this!”

“THE CHOICE IS MADE!” The voice said, with finality.

“Whoa! HOooooh!” Tormund shouted out denial, “Nobody Choosed anything!”

“THE TRAVELER HAS COME!” The voice sounded triumphant.

“Nobody chose anything!” Tormund said, turning to Samwell he shouted, “Did you choose anything?”

“My mind is a complete blank!” Sam replied

“Did you choose anything?” he said, turning to Jon, “Did you?” He said, turning to Sandor.

“I didn’t choose anything!” Tormund screamed out. Then the realization hit that neither Jon, nor Sandor had denied choosing.

He turned to stare at each of them, and each had a look of shock and chagrin on their face. “I couldn’t help it! It just popped in there!” Jon said, shaking his head in denial. Tormund turned to Sandor who was standing with a look of shock on his face. “Yeah, it just popped in there!” Sandor replied.

Turning back to Jon, he stepped close and whispered, “What? What just popped in there?”

“I tried to think…” Jon began, but Sam screamed out and pointed, “LOOK!”

There was the sound of an enormous footstep, and Jon cried out, “NO!” Followed by another thunderous footstep. They ran to the edge to see where Sam was pointing. “It CAN’T BE!”

“What is it? WHAT IS IT?” Tormund shouted, “What did you do, Jon?”

“Oh SHIT!” Sam said, in fear.

Thru the streets and the tops of buildings a huge head of red hair could be seen. The glimpse of angry blue eyes and long legs as it strode through town.

Jon stared in amazement and defeat, “It’s Sansa.” He said in a whisper.

“Little Bird’s got HUGE!” Sandor said, quietly.

She was easily a hundred feet tall. She strode thru the town crushing people and cars as she came. Headed straight for them. The simpering smile belying the carnage in her wake. The crowd of the Central Plaza began to run for their lives before her. She just looked down at them without saying a word.

“There’s something you don’t see every fucking day!” Sandor said, staring.

“I tried to think of the most harmless thing!” Jon said, staring down as the red hair swung as she turned her head this way and that at the fleeing crowds. “Something I loved from my childhood. She was always kind to me. Something that could never ever possibly destroy us!

“The Little Bird” Sandor said, moving next to Jon. “She’s gotten big!”

“Nice thinking, boys!” Tormund said, eyebrows buried in his hairline!

“I tried to think of the most harmless thing! She was always so meek and mild and long suffering, she could never hurt a fly.” Sandor said. “Even her direwolf was a gentle Lady!”

“I think Sandor has gone ‘bye bye’!” Tormund said to to Sam. “What have you got left?”

Sam stared with his mouth hanging open in shock, “”Sorry Tormund, I’m terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought!”

She just kept stepping relentlessly forward, with no thought for the terror or carnage she was causing, until she got to the Sept next door to their building and she looked up at them and there was rage in those beautiful blue eyes. She sneered up at them, making it clear who her first intended victims were…

“Oh no…” Tormund. “She is kissed by fire!”

As he said it, she looked at the Sept before her and took in an enormous breath and breathed out like a hurricane on the church of The Seven. The glass in the windows blew out first, then the roof tiles and shutters were torn away, then the entire structure started to give way. And she stepped into the crumbling remains smashing it to pieces.

“Nobody steps on a church in my town!” Sam yelled, snapping out of his stupor.

“Fuck me!” said Sandor in disbelief.

“That isn’t Sansa! She would NEVER do that to a church!” Jon said, also snapping out of it, “Touched by fire, huh?” He said to Tormund, who nodded. “We’ll touch her with fire! ROAST HER!” And with that he turned on his proton pack, full stream. The others joined suit and four streams of power slammed into her, setting her grey dress aflame and burning her long red hair.

She screamed in pain and fury and smashed her hand into their building and then kicked, making hand and footholds to climb the building. She looked down at the flames consuming her clothing and directed them in a gout of flame up the side of the building at them. They cut off the flows from their devices and leapt back to prevent themselves being immolated. They could feel the tremendous heat as the flames shot harmlessly skyward.

As they huddled together, Sandor mumbled to himself, “Imagine that! Me, being taken out by a Ten Story Cunt!”

“We are not defeated! They do not call me ‘Giantsbane’ for nothing!” Tormund said.

“Nobody calls you that, you silly cunt! You call yourself that!” Sandor replied.

“Would you two shut up!” Jon said, thinking fast, “I think I have an idea!”

“Whatever it is, you better make it fast, she is half-way here!” Tormund said, looking down the side of the building.

“It’d a radical idea! The Door swings both ways, right?” Jon asked and Sam nodded, “ We could reverse the particle flow thru the Gate!”

“How?” asked Sandor.

“We cross the Streams.” Jon said after swallowing audibly.  
“Excuse me, Aegon!” Sandor said, holding up a finger. “But didn’t we say ‘Crossing the Streams was BAD’?” He turned to Sam, “You said ‘Crossing the Streams was Bad!’!”

“Cross the Streams. Of course!” Sam replied.

“You’re going to endanger us. You are going to endanger our client.” Tormund said, matter-of-factly. “ The nice big lady, who paid us in advance, before she became a dog…”

“Not necessarily!” Sam interjected, “There’s a very SLIM chance that we’ll survive!”

They all looked at each other, weighing the alternatives. Tormund shook his head, his mouth hanging open, Sam and Jon locked gazes and Jon raised an eyebrow, but it was Sandor who broke the silence.

“Fuck it! I love this plan!” He said, slapping Tormund’s mouth shut, “I’m excited to try it! Let’s DO IT!” He said, standing, “What do we do?”

The others stood with him and Sam moved back to point at the Gateway. “This job is definitely not worth Eleven-five a year!” Tormund exclaimed as he joined the others.

Just as they moved, a giant pale hand grasped the top of the building, narrowly missing Tormund. Sansa’s beautiful head cleared the top of the building as they reached position, standing in a line.

“See you on the other side, Sam!” Jon said, and ignited his emitter, hosing the unnatural doorway. The creatures holding it open began to scream.

“Nice working with you, Dr, Targaryen.” Sam said, igniting his own emitter, and brought his flow to cross his friend’s. “We need them all, Sandor, Tormund cross the flows!”

The other two men joined their flows to the Stream flowing into the Doorway. They began to vibrate and the power coursing thru them was terrible. The Giant behind them screamed in fury and alarm and raised a flaming fist to crush them.

“It’s not enough!” Jon shouted. “We need more power!”

“That’s it!” Sam said, “Drop your Traps, pointing at the Portal!” He shouted. They all pulled their Traps from their belts and dropped them to the floor, pointing outwards. “Now open them!” Sam screamed as the Giant’s fist began to descend.

The traps opened and all the spirits and energy contained in them flowed into the Doorway and there was a massive implosion at the pyramid that then exploded outward in a cataclysmic blast of energy.  
“Get down!” Sam screamed and they all ducked behind a couple of pillars that framed the doorway. The explosion engulfed the Giant and she screamed as she seemed to break into a mist and be sucked back into the Portal. The creatures holding it open screamed as they too were drawn in and dissolved. The Portal slammed shut and there was another explosion that shot from the building on all sides, dissipating the storm clouds that had spun continuously since the event began. The crowds on the street screamed, not knowing what it portended.

Jon woke to pain. His overalls and hair smoldered and he hurt all over. As if he had been turned inside out and put back again. He heard others moving, and he was relieved that at least some of them had survived.”Sam? Sandor? Tormund?” he said, struggling to sit up.

“Here!” Sam said, groggily.

“Here, I think!” Tormund replied painfully.

“Fuck you cunts!” Sandor said, sitting up. Half his face was badly burned.

“I think we did it!” Sam said, looking around.

“Oh, it smells like barbecued dog hair!” Sam said, wrinkling his nose.

“Hey! What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Sandor said, offended.

Tormund just looked up from the charred carcass of the demon dog that had been their client, Brienne.

“Oh, Tormund.” Sam said, seeing the sad look of loss on Tormund’s face, “Tormund, I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Tormund!” Tormund said nothing, just stared at the charred claw sticking skyward. “I’m sorry, I just forgot!”

He began to walk away when the surface started to crack and crumble and a hand appeared from inside, like it was an enormous eggshell. The claw fell off and an entire arm appeared. Tormund leapt forward and started smashing it apart with his fists. Eventually Brienne emerged, dazed and confused, but unhurt. The other demon dog carcass began to crack and pop, and they rushed over to it. Helping the person inside to free themselves.

“Somebody let me out!” The person inside shouted from within the dog’s head as it pulled away from the rest of the remains.

When Sam lifted it off, he was shocked, “Gilly?” Sam said, confused.

“Oh, hello!” Gilly said, confused, but smiling. “How did I get here? Where IS here?”

“Oh!” Brienne said, confused and disoriented, “What happened?” Then she looked into Tormund’s adoring face, “Oh, hello!” and she smiled.

The smile Tormund returned her made him look like a puppy getting a bone, “Hello!”

Gilly looked around at all the damages and shook her head, “Boy, the superintendent is gonna be PISSED!”

“Are you ok?” Sam said, helping her down.

“Who are you guys?” Gilly asked, still confused, they were all covered in soot.

“We’re the Ghostbusters!” Sam said, proudly.

“Sam?” Gilly said, peering closely at his face. “Samwell Tarly?”

“Yup!” Said Sam.

“OH SAM!’ Gilly said and leapt into his arms, kissing him.

"Hang on!" Sandor said, confused. "If she was the 'Gatekeeper' and SHE was the 'Keymaster'... How did they fucking make monster flying fucking babies?" 

"Magic?" Jon replied, dubiously.

Tormund and Brienne were also kissing, and Sandor looked on in disgust. “I get burnt to a fucking crisp and the fat fuck gets the girl?”

Just then, from the rubble, the white haired girl that The Stormbringer first appeared as, stood up. Sandor raised his proton pack and his emitter hummed to life, but the girl fell back in fear and Jon leapt between them, raising his hands.

“Ho! Ho! Hold your fire!” Jon yelled at Sandor, “I think this is something else!”

“Where am I? What’s going on?” The girl asked in confusion. “Who are you?”

“Relax! I’m Jon!” he said, “Nobody is going to hurt you!” he said to Sandor, who shut down, reluctantly.

“I’m so confused!” She wailed and pressed into Jon’s chest for protection. Jon put his arms around her in wonder.

“Fucking PERFECT!” Sandor said, turning away. “Every fucking cunt gets to save a girl but me!”

But as he turned, he saw the redhead that had nearly killed them, now returned to normal size, staring around in confusion. Her clothes were mostly burned off and her hands were trying in a vain attempt to cover herself. Her wandering gaze finally lit on Sandor and her eyes widened. Sandor ducked his head, to hide his burns, but a soft hand cupped his chin and lifted his face.

“You saved me!” Sansa said, hugging him fiercely, and began weeping.

Sandor was shocked, but he put his arms around her and held her soft, sobbing form. “There, there, Little Bird!” he said into her burnt red hair. “It’s over now! Everything is gonna be alright!”

 

 

And for the first time in a long time, he actually believed it.

 

 


End file.
